Tired

 

Sat down at a creaking desk,
With a broken pen and rusty hands, I write this down;
The draft from the window gives my skin a texture,
My coffee is cold.
It’s raining outside again – I’m yawning once more
Huddled in a borrowed jumper,
I’ve almost found the right words –
But not quite, maybe next time,
Right now, I’m just so tired.

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