Nonfiction

Lungfish.

Why am I so tired?
Of everything and anything?
Even you.
And me.
There's no energy left -
Where has my will flown?
Or maybe it has crumbled down,
Into the sinkhole known,
As "society".
They like to dress it up,
Slap it into nice finery and pretty dresses,
But they do nothing to hide the ugliness of it all,
Nor the monstrosity.
I'm tired of dancing the masquerade,
Tired of playing the game of facades,
Or speaking the truth.
So tired.
Look in my eyes, girl,
What do you see?
They're nothing like yours.
Maybe tonight I can wait,
And sleep and dream.