Account For Being Tired

What I do take,
makes tomorrow.
Goodbyes, do not happen,
until the next day.
Closed eyes.
Until next times.
Why sleep,
only to wake in analysis.
Red eyes; because sleep is
for death.
When your arms go numb,
you find release.
Dark circles.
Light moans.
Sleep deprivation.
Self deprecation.
A man stuck in the clouds,
because walking on solid ground,
will eventually become worn;
cracks form
and spread,
and that is time.
Time makes no mistake.
Time shows the etch lines,
sketched in a face.
The rings on a log.
The dirty jewel.
Words that still resonate.


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