Tired of the day-to-day. Tired of eight hours, commutes, tiny unsolvable word problems. Tired of not being able to do it all at home.
Some days, I'd rather stay in bed.
Tired of cats knocking over plants, clawing carpet, biting the beads off of my skirts, using my hands as a launch pad. Tired of cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Tired of The Voice in my Head that says it's not good enough, you have to keep going, you have to do more, or else.
Some days, I don't want to move for weeks.
Tired of depression. Tired of bad feelings ambushing me on a beautiful day. Tired of little things making me into a Midwestern Hulk. Tired of remembering my faults for years on end.
Some days, the sunrise takes that all away.
On days when it doesn't, there's always poetry.