The weight of tasks doth press upon my chest,
Like waves that rise and drag me ‘neath the deep.
I fight, I gasp, yet never find my rest,
For time runs on, and I am left to weep.
My labors stack like stones upon my back,
Each duty more than weary hands can bear.
I chase the sun but fall into the black,
Consumed by toil and swallowed by despair.
The stars look down, yet offer me no peace,
Their distant glow too faint to guide my way.
My heart cries out, but bids my strife not cease,
For dawn returns to drown me in the day.
Yet though I sink, I reach with trembling hand,
Still yearning for some solid ground to stand.
Hayden Coombs 