Tired
After Tulips by Sylvia Plath
By Alyson Smith Published 2 years ago • Updated 2 years ago • 1 min read
Photo by Christine Siracusa on Unsplash
Tired
I am trying to still the quickening
so they bring
me a bolus and I stop
dancing and cleaning
cobwebs from the lightbulbs.
I am sleeping, but wake,
intermittently numb
to my surroundings.
I remembered no voice
but I did not feel alone.
Just tired. Absurd. And tired.
About the Creator
Alyson Smith
Neurodivergent, working-class writer and artist diagnosed with Bipolar. Based in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. MA in Creative Writing. Currently waitressing while finishing my novel.
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