Uitputting

I am tired.
Not for a lack of rest —
no, I slept quite well last night,
and I’ve had my coffee.

it’s something deeper, something
inherently present, in the
fibers of my skin,
in my tendons, in my eyes.

I am exhausted,
fatigued by life,
by the noise and the silence,
the people, and
the empty rooms,
the light and dark;
by hope and
despair.

so worn down by the world
that nothing in it can
refresh my mind from the
constant buzzing.

I am tired, and there are not
enough hours in the night
for the type of rest I need.

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