A Tired Heart

Sometimes the soul feels weary, and the world- a restless storm. Every path is crowded, hurried. No one free, no one warm. We wear belts of duty, tightly bound. Threads of care & strain entwined. Smiles painted on like fragile masks, While sorrow whispers behind. Amid the noise, the endless chase. A quiet longing takes it shape- to pause the clock, to breathe again, to drift away, to just escape.