Death by Exile

He is tired of the repercussions of being in a relationship, the cost of it, he is tired of starting all over again.

He is tired of all the obligations, the melancholy that dances with it, the overthinking state of mind, he is tired of the monies.

He is tired that he has not met his special one, that it may be too late already, he is tired of the pressure.

He is tired of being pushed over, that his ideas are not valued, not considered, not recognized and ignored, he is tired of his work.

He is tired of holding back all the time, the times when he is the butt of all jokes, he is tired of compromising.

He is tired of his injuries, his constant health issues, his incremental intake of pills, he is tired of living in a cave.

He is tired of helping in, of putting his hand in the dirt, to go the extra mile, he is tired of putting up a smile.

He is tired of being unsure whether he’s gonna make it or not, of being unable to bring the change, he is tired of making amends.

He is tired of not speaking up, being mundane, the lack of alacrity, he is tired of being the listener.

He is tired of all the plans that he can’t make it to, of being stood up, of waiting, he is tired to rescind.

He is tired of the jungle, the pretentious, the uninitiated, the mediocre, the band-wagoners, he is tired of the ostensible.

He is tired of sweating it out, of juxtaposition, a self confessed bourgeois, he is tired of being the runner up at everything.

He is tired that his cup his full, of suffocation, he is just tired that he can’t empty it.