tired brain poem

i can't write anymore, like my brain's getting sore

like it itches but i cannot scratch

and i can't think of things, and it hurts and it stings

like my brain's been replaced by a rash

i don't know why i'm here, like i'm pierced by a spear

which has taken my art from inside

and it's crumpled it up, and what's left is all rough

like a monster from which i can't hide

and i bitch and i moan, i complain and i groan

like a child who can't get their way

i am innocent, yes, but i can't pass the test

so i'll pack up my bags for the day

and my brain's like a shell, like i'm ringing a bell

like the sounds in my skull magnify,

it's not like how before i could do any chore

without even having to try

like a juicer has squeezed, and i'm begging, like, please,

to return to my previous state

but my brain i can't cheat, and what's done is complete

since i'm old now i can't wipe the slate

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