Harry Sweeden. My life in verse.
507,772 poems read
Tired
Tired
I am tired.
I have watched the clock move on so many times…
Heard so many rhythms that sing out the time of life…
So much strife… for such a short life.
Where is the pleasure in the treasure that we seek…
What makes us strong and then… all so weak…
When will it end?
When will the clock stop to spin…
Give man a chance to win relief…
Find real belief in what he seeks…
For all he wishes to be…
A chance to be free…
From all that confuses him…
All that defines him in a strangers eyes…
Looking to despise…
But tolerating his touch…
Believing… believing far, far to much…
22.01.02
I am tired.
I have watched the clock move on so many times…
Heard so many rhythms that sing out the time of life…
So much strife… for such a short life.
Where is the pleasure in the treasure that we seek…
What makes us strong and then… all so weak…
When will it end?
When will the clock stop to spin…
Give man a chance to win relief…
Find real belief in what he seeks…
For all he wishes to be…
A chance to be free…
From all that confuses him…
All that defines him in a strangers eyes…
Looking to despise…
But tolerating his touch…
Believing… believing far, far to much…
22.01.02
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Tired
Tired