Lord I'm Just Tired

In the twilight of my soul, where shadows dance and sigh, I lay bare my weariness, Lord, before Your piercing eye. Tired of the weight that crushes, of tears that ceaseless flow, Tired of hoping for reprieve, only to be let down low. The cacophony of the world derides my every breath, A pauper's plea for sustenance, for raiment, for life's scant sheath. Used and discarded, a vessel worn and frail, I seek solace in Your presence, Lord, lest I prevail. My bones, like parched wood, creak beneath life's glean, My spirit, a flame flickering, buffeted by despair's keen. Yah, intervene, I implore You, in this dark, desolate night, For nothing in this world can satiate this gnawing, aching plight. When will the yoke of burden be lifted, the pain subside? When will Your balm of Gilead soothe this soul, this heart's deep divide? I'm tired, Lord, tired of the fight, the endless, fruitless strife. In Your mercy, grant me respite, and let me find my life.