Break Us Down

Thrive on pain
Inflict suffering
Against us
And for us
All things are weapons to us
To break a soul down.
 
The good pass
We forget their ways
Speak kindly
And often
Instead we torture others
And for what, I ask?
 
A brief peace
By passing our pain
How about
We offer
To lift each other higher?
Together, we may yet rise.
~Thanks for reading! This was my attempt at a Shadorma poem (though it is more than one linked together). It follows a 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable pattern, without rhymes. I find I enjoy the syllable focused ones as it adds a new challenge with words.
~I will also add it was my entry into a challenge on Prose. They post their own challenges and users can, too. It is a great way to find inspiration if you need it!

Tired

I am tired.

Tired of carrying the house’s chores.

My husband’s constant need for backrubs.

I am tired .

Tired of figuring out dinner night after night.

My dogs’ inane need to whine every morning.

I am tired.

Tired of feeling worthless, hung out to dry.

My siblings’ hateful gaze when I speak.

I am tired.

Tired of feeling alone, pulling myself up.

My inner mind’s dark, dark voice.

I am tired.

Tired of sleeping in, depressed.

My dream’s constant hold on me.

I am tired.

Tired of carrying everyone’s problems alongside my own.

My need to please all those around me.

I am tired.

Tired of throwing myself to the side.

My desire to put everyone else before me.

I am tired.

Why doesn’t anyone see that?

Why doesn’t anyone help?

Why doesn’t anyone lend a kind word?