tired is so many things

Tired is so many things, the aching loneliness of nighttime, the silent grief of an empty heart. Tired is exhaustion’s lover, taking, stealing, hording strength from mind’s weakened form. Tired is sadness. Tired is sleep and wearied limbs, dreams and frightened thoughts. Tired is death’s last gasp, a sighing breath of life’s final air. Tired is wakefulness tethered, shackled to failed and grounded dreams. Tired is a prison, a fearful darkened place where desperation hides amidst angry, gnashing calls. Tired is missing and grieving, hiding aches and pains in lying silence. Tired is everything ending, everything saying goodbye. Tired is so many things. So many, many things.