#weary

72 posts
  • rachelfredericks 22w

    To bless the weary heart...

    To bless the wounded, weary, world-torn Heart, I feel the need to find myself in its midst. To enter into darkness and submerge myself in hopelessness, to feel the weight of the world, aimless as one bereft of light to follow, or guide to lead them, or companion to relieve the breaking of their bruised and battered neck.
    And to enter takes almost nothing at all at the same time it takes everything I have. To sink is effortless and to feel the weight of drowning somehow comfortable. But to emerge with words of inspiration, or of some half-true hope for healing, takes more effort than my arms have ever trained themselves to muster. I realize, in the din and overwhelm of deep, that I was never truly out of it. I have never truly left. Unable to swim I have taught myself to breathe underwater and pretend that this is where my home has always been. Only, it is the surface and the light I long for. And it is the deep that disconnects me from the land where hearts are gaily going about their ignorant bliss... we, down here, who have learned what breathing feels like without air, cannot afford the same ignorance. We are crowded here as well. A city of cynics and empaths. We feel everything, because water does not disappear as air pretends to. When we move, it is water that glides across our skin, fills our noses and our ears, shifts and sloshes in our mouths and in our shoes, ripples to the edge of someone else who cannot know from whence *this* ripple came. There is no silence, but all music and laughter is muffled. There is no stillness, but dancing is harder than before. Resistance is all we know now, and we see how it tortures and how it inspires and how it overwhelms and how it strengthens. We are all here for different reasons. We are all aware of what's at stake. And I have never left because - well I don't know. But to bless the wounded, weary, world-torn heart, I needn't travel very far to be right there in its midst.
    ©rachelfredericks

  • ebube_od 23w

    Finding Hope

    It takes little for one to fall down,
    Much less to stay down.
    After you've felt down for so long pushed aside like you don't matter.
    Your heart weary from fighting high, even more bruised from fighting low to maintain the rhythm of it's pace.
    Hope is the hand you need to cautiously find.
    When you find it, you hold on to it.
    When you've held on to it, you follow it
    When you follow it, you find you
    The you that was before all the fighting began.
    Hope takes you home.
    ©ebube_od

  • czarcasm 26w

    The last song

    These weary eyes struggle to stay open

    For hours it has been since last rest

    But feelings of oh so much to do have foiled my plans they won't send through

    Heavily I sit upon my seat and exhale with tired lungs and hum to songs for memories gone

    the last song has been sung
    ©czarcasm

  • mrspectacular 38w

    THY DEATH IS MY LIFE

    _____________
    A fountain sits in the middle of the park with little fountains surrounding it. The flourescent in its pool makes the water seem glittery. It shines like little crystals have been lodged in it.

    The park bubbles with life, holding an assembly of fun-lovers and tourists. In this myriad of characters is a man with worries too much, he cannot even smile in a place as bubbly as this beautiful and enjoyably saturated area. A man, Donald Wesley, with a salary that cannot pay half of the bills to his name. His hope dwindling like a pendulum. His children wearing clothes so cheap but for which he has to pay an arm and a leg for. His little vehicle, an aged overused sedan whose life appears to be hanging by a thread. The vehicle seems to wish for death. It would go off it on its own accord even right in the middle of the road and would require a lot of time touching a whole lot of connections in its bonnet to get it up and running. Sometimes, he would have to pay to have it towed home while at other times, he would be so unfortunate he would have to push it all the way home himself.

    The fountain flowing with warm water seems too obvious to him, it almost seems it is calling out to him to come over for a drink. For a moment, time stands still and it feels as though the other park visitors have deserted the park all of a sudden and it is just himself and the fountain.

    Rushing at the fountain, he makes to take a plunge in it. The security guards at the park, dressed in white uniforms, grab him just as he is about touchdown in the fountain. They take a stern look at him and seeing a look of desperation in his countenance as he tries to force his way out of their grips, they conclude he is a lunatic and ban him from the park premises. Holding him by the arm as he begs for reasoning, they throw him out of the park.
    He sits there for a while and about a minute later, picks himself up off the tarred ground, wobbles up to where he had parked his car and places himself behind the steering tiringly. He tries to start the car, it stalls for about five minutes but finally starts up and he drives himself home.

    Donald seems unwilling to sleep when he arrives home. He does not want to be stressed either but the episode that occured earlier seems too embarrassing. Sleep seems pretty unimportant to him at the moment, it is not as important as a drink from that fountain he believes would transform his life. In his opinion, such an opportunity may never present itself again so he will have to do all it takes to utilize this one to the fullest.

    He tells no member of his family about the episode, not even his wife but keeps it to himself. All he thinks of is the benefit of drinking of the fountain would do for him and his family, they would be happy again he believes.

    Realizing he has been banned from the park and therefore would not have legal access to the park to earn him a drink from the fountain, he decides to storm the park after it has closed at night. Walking gently and stealthily out of his bedroom by 12:20am in order not to wake his wife up, he picks up his car key. He drives off towards the park speedily.

    Donald, noticing the park is quiet and locked, drives his car a little further away from the park and treks back to the park.

    Getting there he climbs the fence into the park. He hopes no one catches him in the act, surprised at his own desperation. When he is finally inside the park, he takes a deep breath and looks at the fence again, imagining the fact that he would have to climb it again after he is done with his mission-drinking from the fountain.

    'I hope this transforms my life for the better', Donald says just as he is about to stoop for a drink at the fountain. He feels negative and positive at the same time about the act. He begins to drink as much as he can, imagining all the changes he will be expecting from this drink. There the changes begin, he could feel much better about his life.
    Laying on the floor beside the fountain, having filled himself with water, he falls asleep. The sleep seems much better than he has ever had before.
    'Excuse me, sir. Excuse me sir. How did you get here?' the worried voice of a staff of the park rings in Donald's head. 'We are not open for another two hours'
    Donald keeps mute still trying to regain his consciousness of his environment being he is still in sleep mode.
    'What are you doing here sir and why are you wet?', Dr. Triston, the park's manager queries.
    The staff who had been there first explains to the manager that Donald had taken a drink from the fountain.
    The manager, disgruntled, knowing that the park had banned Donald before now orders him kicked out again.
    'I hope this works out just the way I want because this embarrassment is rather too much', he hopes as he picks himself off the ground to his car and drives him. For the first time the car does not stall but he does not notice as he is terribly worried about the wish coming through.
    In joyful realisation of what is happening in his life, he flings the door to his house open, only to see his wife in tears. Confused, he moves towards her to find out the issue but she only weeps more painfully pointing towards the children's bedroom. Eager to understand the reason for her tears, Donald hurries over to the children's bedroom to see his three children lain on the bed.
    In confusion, he turns to go meet his wife again,
    'I'm yet lost', he begins as he removes his clothes. 'Our children are asleep and you are crying. You do know they need enough rest to be strong for us, right?'
    'They are not sleeping....They are dead, Donald.', she screams in painful tears. 'Dead'

    Donald goes back to confirm. Screaming in agony to the high heavens, he holds the cold body of the youngest in his arms. Into his phone enters a message while he is yet weeping, a message from his bank with a credit alert of Six billion dollars staring him in the face. The alert is good news but his children have just been spewed out of life's mouth into death's cold hand. He sees agony standing right beside his joy. He knows not whether to weep or rejoice.
    Pulling his wife close he tries to pacify her,
    'It is okay dear', he begins warmly. 'We will be fine'.
    _________________

    ©mrspectacular

  • nightqueen 38w

    A girl I am,
    sitting on disappointment,
    never letting it broke her.

    A girl I am,
    strong beautiful and willful,
    chasing around magnificent dreams.

    A girl I am,
    living all day everyday ,
    in a curious little bubble.

    A girl I am,
    willing to let go,
    only never be able to.

    A girl I am,
    with a strong heart,
    with a strange smile.
    ©nightqueen

  • nightqueen 41w

    I am loosing my touch on reality,
    Like I could cry one moment,
    but not feel anything the next.
    Even words are failing me ,
    that was the one thing,
    I thought mine forever.
    This means trouble I guess,
    but I couldn't bring myself to care.
    Perhaps its time to accept
    the darkness and rest ,
    my weary soul.
    ©nightqueen

  • jodi_writes 60w

    Digging deep to find the bones of my unconsciousness
    Uncovering fossils stained with tears
    Feeling the weight of the dirt thrown at me

    Will peace only embrace me with sleep eternal?

    Must I wait until the darkness emerges to sever the ties of depression, anxiety and hopelessness?

    Will my afterlife be consumed of greys and blues?

    Or may I finally feel the yellows of sunshine warming the frozen remnants of a soul battered and bruised?

    My life harbors no regrets. I am now as I've always been conscious of all my blessings, knowing the magnitude of all that has been bestowed upon me.

    It's just... Why must I pay for my present and future happiness with a mind that travels to the past and tedo-totters against the borderline of my sanity?

    Why must every prize accompany failure?


    ©jodi_writes

  • jodi_writes 60w

    she is tired
    weary is she
    they wouldn't understand
    they are unable to see
    the past that won't let her free

    she is tired
    weary is she



    ©jodi_writes

  • jodi_writes 60w

    she is tired
    weary is she
    they wouldn't understand
    they are unable to see
    the past that won't set her free

    she is tired
    weary is she



    ©jodi_writes

  • jodi_writes 60w

    You had me fooled
    Thinking, Believing
    You would stand your ground
    Naive, Trusting
    You made me a clown
    All the hours
    All the times
    We'd make plans at your suggestion
    You had me deceived

    No betrayal is as ruthless as from your own kindred spirit

    ©jodi_writes

  • byjsanker 69w

    You were so used to carrying the world on your shoulders that when I tried to help lessen the load, you had no idea how to let me. You had built your life on being all that you ever needed. Your soul was becoming weary but you'd do everything in your power to never let anyone know. Not just because you had convinced yourself that made you weak, but more so because you had forgotten what rest even looked like and that sometimes it came in the form of the people who wanted to love you...
    ©byjsanker

  • theessence_ 69w

    Serenity, haos.

    My mind is a haze, probably not content with its wielder..

    It battles with its shadow, yearning to venture off alone..

    My solace is in my isolation,
    Away from these vile creations.

    I need only one symphony..
    The clashing of sacred melodies from the euphonies of heavenly bodies.

    My mind stirs like a cauldron
    Dark thoughts lurking in its corners..

    I hold onto the Word, it's semblance like the golden sun. ☀
    Engulfing the shadows, distorting evil like the preamble of thunder.

  • james_taumas 77w

    Troll and Knight

    Memories beckon me home
    Weary knight from questing
    Come across a bridge
    Green behemoth stands guard
    Stained club in hand
    Silver for the toll
    I answer with steel
    His heads falls
    Spot a hut nearby
    Hear his children weeping
    I ride on.

    ©james_taumas

  • theessence_ 77w

    SOMETHING EVIL.

    Voices scatter through the darkness..
    A shriek of agony from her charred lips...

    Tears of vengeance lingering with darkness..
    The fate of the soul slipped from her fingertips.

    A scorned demon,
    Dangling the bodies of mortals for power,
    Her goal; single and unchanging.
    Enslave souls, for _it_, her master.

  • alexi_silver 80w

    Somedays there are so many words warring in my head,
    That at the end,
    All I'm left with,
    Is the cold emptiness of a graveyard,
    The ghosts of a million unsaid words,
    Clawing at my skin,
    Reminding me that sometimes,
    Silence can be a scream.

    ©alexi_silver

  • dark_omega 80w

    #Inspired by Silhouette(KANA-BOON)
    #Life
    #Weary
    #Still Standing
    #Lonely
    #Pain

    Read More

    SILHOUETTE

    Staring Into The Distance I See A Silhouette
    That Dim Outline Draws Farther Away
    As I Race Ahead To Catch Up To That Familiar Figure
    Memories Resurface As I Stare At His Back
    Of Companions He Did Not Lack
    No Matter How Few They May Have Been
    Yet Like A Shot From A Trigger
    Some Sped Away In Search Of Their Way
    Like A Crumbling Canyon Wall Some Broke Off
    And Still Others Were Lost To The Sands Of Time And Yearning
    Even Though They Might Have Thought Him Indifferent
    A Trait That Seemed Inherent
    I Cannot Help But Be Indignant
    I Whispered To Myself That Even Stone Can Bleed
    Maybe Their Efforts Were Meagre
    In My Case It Started Out As A Seed
    I Found Myself Cut Off So He Could Keep Moving On
    Yet No Blame Lies In My Heart
    For I Know The Pain He Bore
    Time Did Not Wash Away The Memories
    I Simply Wish There Could Have Been Less Tragedies
    Yet Who Can Predict Life, This Great Game Of Roulette
    In The Distance He Halts And Slowly Turns Around
    And I Gaze At The Face That Mirrors Mine Except For The Weary Eyes That Have Seen Through The Vicissitudes Of Life
    ©dark_omega

  • sayan251 93w

    MOUNTAINS OF LIFE

    Each day I climb new mountains
    in the struggle for life.
    Sometimes my limbs get weary
    and I want to give, but I have to go on.
    Giving up would mean losing
    everything my life was meant for.
    Therefore, I must struggle
    never giving my body a rest.
    I must climb these new mountains
    or I am doomed forever more.
    There is no turning back once started,
    as it doesn’t work that way.
    Each day there is a new mountains
    that gets bigger with each day
    and we must reach the summit by nightfall
    or get stuck on the mountain going nowhere.
    The harder we climb,
    the higher we get
    until we reach
    the apex of our dreams.
    ©sayan251

  • sayuki 99w

    Lonely Thoughts

    A lonely path to happiness..
    Few heartbreaks, few friends..
    At the end who will be waiting...?
    ©sayuki

  • thoughtful_since1997 102w

    The Ache

    It doesn't have to be a rainy day,
    It doesn't have to be an ice cold night,
    My heart remains weary,
    And life seems to be dreary

    ©thoughtful_since1997

  • lustwanderer 107w

    Tough Love

    Our love is tough
    Even the roads are rough
    But love isn't enough
    Are we ready to give up?

    My love for you is endless
    I wish it will be painless
    So that I can be care less
    And my brain will be thoughtless

    As my love is full of sadness
    And my dreams is in darkness
    And my heart is on meakness
    All I want is just pure happiness

    All the memories are waving
    As my eyes starts weeping
    I do not know what I will be seeing
    In what this life to me may bring
    ©lustwanderer