Worn Out

By CYLAH ANGELA ALEGRE

I am worn out. My eyes are weary from the countless sight of fake happy faces, My ears are exhausted from hearing unreal laughter, My mouth cannot utter a single flattery, I am worn out.

I am worn out. I fear that my hands can no longer feel others’ warmth, that my voice can no longer speak kindness, and that I could no longer recognize the calm, I am worn out.

ART BY ANGELIKA ODANGO

I am worn out, of being an image of bliss, like a ray of sunshine in the morning, and like a daisy’s midsummer’s kiss, I am worn out.

I am worn out, of staying under the shade, because the grown-ups told me not to, and I did, now look at the mess I made, I am worn out.

I am worn out, of the beautiful, ideal, and whole, aren’t that the reason why the youth continue to look for their lost souls? Aren’t we all worn out?

When do we ever stop getting tired? Every time I look at each person passing by the street, I see fake happy faces, I hear unreal laughter, When do we ever stop deceit? Now tell me, aren’t we all worn out?