The Weight

The burden of my being weighs
At least a half a tonne.
It’s borne down on me all the days
I’ve lived beneath the sun.

Although I’ve tried to shake it off
And live a life of ease,
It’s gone from being just a cough
To some acute disease.

At times, I’ll stop and wonder why
This had to be my fate;
I tell myself I’d learn to fly
But for this very weight.

But then I know the world’s this way
In spite of anything I say.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *