In a world so bustling, I find a quiet plea,
Sometimes, my mind's tired of all that there may be.
I yearn for a refuge, a tranquil space to fill,
Yet it seems such solace is but a distant hill.

The weight of sleep makes my shoulders bend,
Laughter, once sweet, feels like a heavy trend.
Tears, they fall, a drought within my soul,
As if the world conspires to take its toll.

I wonder if I'm...