He’s tired. But not for lack of sleep,
For lack of living.
For lack of care worth giving.
He runs on broken dreams.
He’s hollow. And though his thoughts are deep,
His words are shallow.
He daily wakes to hallow
All of life’s twisted schemes.
He’s tired. But not for lack of sleep,
From all the running.
The search for something stunning,
For anything that gleams.

– s. Clark