Tag: Tired

Tired

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia5 Comments

I’m tired of wanting to be loved,
Of waiting for the men I love to see me,
Of waiting for them to return,
And to leave.


I’m tired of second guessing myself,
Of not seeing myself as worthy,
Of waiting for acceptance
From a dead father.


I’m tired of thinking life can be lived,
Of losing people I love to death,
Or to life.


I’m tired of people being people,
Of losing the animals I love.
I’m tired of buying clothes
To ease my vanity.
I’m tired of waking and sleeping,
Of hoping and loving,
Of losing, and of believing
In promises.


I’m tired of giving chances
To those who don’t understand them.
I’m tired of eating and gaining weight,
Of falling sick and growing thin,
I’m tired of my heart,
I’m tired of breathing.

I’m tired of me.

The 4th

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia2 Comments

If chemo worked,
Where would faith go?
Pain would end.
Cancers wouldn’t grow.

Love might work
To cast hope even now,
Shining like a diadem
On a mortal brow.

Death keeps both
Faith and love in check,
With a noose
Around the neck.

Time to stop
Fighting the good fight;
And gracefully,
Walk into night.

Ultimatum

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like those countless times
Your dad picks on you,
Because you’re gay,
And you dread the sound of him entering a room;
So much so that he makes you afraid of men in general –
To be tired of the fear and the feelings of inadequacy.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like falling in love,
When you realise it wasn’t meant to be just once,
Like all those books say,
It happens over and over again,
With people who cut up your heart;
Because they cannot love it whole.
To be tired of explaining who you are,
To those who want to love you entire
But cannot.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like the pain that rips your inside,
When the children you love are taken
By death – and yet you get another –
For the love you gain
It’s happiness you sacrifice.
To be tired then of death itself;
Because you have met him as a guest
Who is unwelcome but demands attention
And a complete tally of records.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like all those futile times,
When you tried to make yourself more than
A caricature
Of trying to prove your quality.
To be tired of prejudice itself;
Because you realise humanity is bitter
And their contentment lies in the ruin of the other.

You say you’re tired.
But that’s a bit of how my tired feels.