By: Linda M Crate

i feel exhausted of this place
hangs heavy on my bones,
and i’m exasperated of this job
doesn’t do anything more than
pay the bills;
i just want to write, write, and write
to be lost in words and realms
all my own
never having to worry about the slapping
hand of reality that forces me
into all the places that burden and suck out
joy and peace from me
all i want is to cut through every bone
holding me back from my
dreams—
wish sometimes i was born with a silver spoon
in my mouth because i am sick of all this
suffering,
but they say it’s supposed to make me stronger;
at this rate i should be able to balance the world on my
shoulders but i am not atlas and i think even
a buick would crush me—
just want a day where i can wake up without worry
of bills, insurance, or the balance in the bank;
to be able to take care of myself without all the drama
of this struggling.