Tired

I’m tired.
Tired of this blank page.
Tired of the blank page.

I need it filled with life and breath.
I need it filled with dark distress.

I need it filled with laughs abroad.
I need it filled with self-applaud.

I’m tired.
Tired of this blank page.
Tired of the blank page.

You see, I haven’t learn to crack the code.
I haven’t learned to fill the mold.

I haven’t learned why the world still turns.
I haven’t learned why my soul still burns.

Burning for all the answers.
Burning to heal the cancers.
Burning to turn the key.
Burning to relearn me.

I’m tired.
Tired of this blank page.
Tired of the blank page.

I’m tired of the emptiness
Brought on the platter of politics.

I’m tired of profitable fears.
Tired they collect our tears,
To drown the other team,
Or water their regime.

I’m tired of misguided hate,
Yielding weapons they create.

I’m tired I can’t be me.
The only me I know to be.

How in the world could I be wrong,
When all I’ve learned was my own song?

I’m tired.
Tired of this blank page.
Tired of the blank page.

But the page is waiting, too.
And though I burn, I breathe.