It’s easy to paint a rosy picture
with words and actions
that don’t represent what goes on inside.

I live a life that seems so full and active
but inside I’m worn out and very tired.

It’s been a long hard struggle
and on with it I’ll go.
And as good as life is, I’ll never know
the freedom that real weightless, mindless,
responsibility free existence can provide–
That’s something that was in the youth
I left behind
two decades ago

But the rosy painted picture
perceived by those around me
pre-empts any strike against
what I feel inside.

I know how hard it is
to keep on living this life,
but I’ll go on,
and I’ll go on,
and then one day
I’ll die.