Truly tired...

Tired in life
Tired in death
Tired of scarcity
Tired of Wealth

Tired of smiling when I want to yell
Tired of serenity when it feels like hell

Tired of trying to explain myself
Tired of being the asinine elf

Tired of holding hands that hurt
Tired of standing tall when I feel like dirt

This life, this world
is taking away my hold
It has more layers
Than I can unfold

The people too fake
too opaque, too dark
The customs too complex
all foxes, no larks

This room that seems to be quiet and passive
Holds within it a storm too dark too massive

But to unleash it, is not a choice
For what it will kill, is my own voice

Why are you my friend?

I leave and I do not tell you why
I break your heart and tears run dry
I do not yield when you cry for help
I do not wince when you cut yourself
When you look my way I do not bend
My dear, why do you call me a friend?

They say a friend is a gift of god
Well if that is true then i do not applaud
This most incredible yet undeserving gift
It bows me down rather than uplift
It is a wound on the heart to mend
My dear, why do you call me a friend?

Its a lesson that I need to learn
The mysteries of this gift I must discern
What does it mean to have a friend
Be there for you at every bend
Even though I do not give the same
I get the gifts and the fame
When I do not give or even lend
My dear, why are you my friend?