Actually, no

I’m tired

Actually, no

I just always seem to say I am

it seems I'm always tired

I’m not even sure why.

Actually, no

I know why I'm tired

Sometimes it’s the yelling

as the words pierce me through and through -

quiet daggers

Sometimes it’s the tears

gushing down in an endless torrent

Sometimes it’s the silence

the tension palpable,

As we sit there, waiting for the other to speak

Sometimes it’s the fear

Whispers of worry crawling to my ears

gripping my throat

with scaly hands

Telling me

That I’m not good enough

That I’ll never succeed

That I don’t deserve anything.

The tired seeps in my bones

Through my muscles

Into my brain

It permeates my skin

Until all I am

Is tired.