I see the world with tired eyes.
Everything is a misty gray.
Wisdom is dying
a horrible death.
The days are lonely.
The mud is thick.
There is nothing new just
the same cycle pretending to be different.
The darkness working to defeat the light.
Stories written in ink mixed with lies.
Faith tested by propaganda.
Babies no longer shedding tears.
My mind longs for rest.
My soul seeks the comfort of peace.