Tired for anything.

Dead in the head. Long day labour hammering my gut to bits. By evening, I am exhausted, full of hatred and headache. I have hit the trough once again. The saint in my is dying, the devil ripping me apart at all times. Even a cool breeze fails to bring any ease to me. I wish that my eyes closed and I never had to do a thing again.

Β© Copyright 2020 Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

6 thoughts on “Tired for anything.

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