The Lonely Hours
How can I sleep? With the weight of the world on my shoulders? Rolling through my mind like a freight train. Restless thoughts making the winter that much colder. I’d like to believe that I am the only one. All work, no play, never having any fun. But I can’t. I think of all the people behind closed doors. Wringing their hands. Walking the cold floors. I am tortured by the sound of gentle sleep. Wish I was them for one night. Drifting in a dreaming world so deep. These are the lonely hours. My soul is so tired. So… So tired. How do I tell the ones I love? How do I tell them I have done all in my power? I have walked too many steps. Too many secrets I have kept. I have spoken too many words. My years have become a blur. Living, loving, children and bills. Baking, crying, sickness, warm meals. Laughter, depression, divorce, too much oppression. Fighting to get out of bed. Sweating while holding up my head. These are the lonely hours. I’m weak… so so weak. Right now all seems bleak. But I’ll try again with the morning sun. I’ll stay put because there is nowhere to run. Today I paint on another brave face. And again I’ll wait for it to take place. I wait for this thing called the lonely hours. I wait for my lonely hours.