A Softer Burden

The clock ticks slow, yet the hours rush by,  

Beneath fluorescent lights, I quietly sigh.  

Hands that toil for a dream too far,  

While the days feel small, and the nights leave scars.  

The weight of the world sits heavy and still,  

A paycheck stretched but never fulfilled.  

Dreams postponed for another time,  

When rest will come, when stars will align.  

But oh, how tired the spirit feels,  

Like pushing a cart with broken wheels.  

And still, I rise, though my back may bend,  

To chase the hope that waits at day’s end.  

Perhaps tomorrow will hold more light,  

A softer burden, a gentler fight.  

For though today I am weary, low,  

There’s strength in knowing I’ll rise once more.