Tired

Just another repost from DA ( http://dindellathedefender.deviantart.com/art/Tired-Poem-442086134 ), so you guys can see it here.

There was a time when I didn't sink,
This feeling of absolute tire that clings to my skin was for not.
The cold breath flushes my cheeks pink,
Water warm, I dunk headfirst only to find my skin reaping hot.

What is it in this Godforsaken, over-bearing place,
Nothing to weep, no real reason to complain,
But down into the dirt this has dragged me, the race.
My soul is much too maimed.

"Self-inflicted!" I cry at my own horror,
The decision to let my heart burst my was choice,
The most sacred of gems and metals and ores
Could not hoist.

And so I wait until I can sleep again,
The energy not becoming me, except in spurts.
I can't let it win.
I burst.

Author's Note

I will almost never explain what my poetry means, since I don't want you to follow my meaning of it. The meaning is entirely up to you and I'd love to hear what your translation is, why it means something to you or why it doesn't. The more in-depth the better, but that doesn't mean you have to write something really long and depthy if you don't want to. I appreciate any and all reviews. <3

Reviews

[Mel Lisa]

wonderful piece! I felt a refusal to give into rest in the midst of a struggle, an inner struggle to remain alert perhaps. could also be that a race is in progress and this person is tired but wont quit until they reach that finish line (life can be a rat race lol). I like the transition of the poem and the last words " I cant let it win...I burst" something about this sounds so powerful:)it also provides a rawness to the poem as well, perfect ending. good work.

[Joseph Eluzai]

Spurts and bursts, short or long, matter not as long as the grinding goes on. It sounds familiar!