Everything feels heavy
My steps continue to drag across the floor
Too tired to get up
Too tired to walk and run
But where else can I go?
The only places I’ve been
Are the kitchen and the bedroom
Yet it feels like I’ve spent hours
Traveling to and from the stairs
It could be the masochist in me
But I miss those minor inconveniences
A break to my tireless routine
Roaming the streets looking for transport
In the heavy rain or congested traffic
Now, my dreams are my only mode of escape
No lines or hassle
Instead of the heavy sigh of relief
It’s the weight of being trapped
Circling the same destination
Over and over again
