just another ghost in flesh clothing

 
This tiredness makes me a ghost
a whisper of who I was
and who I want to be

I feel like a leaf
that has never touched the ground
caught in the whorls
and flurries of the wind
that sometimes slows
but never stops

I call, yell, scream into the wind
but I'm always going
in the wrong direction
and so I pass you by
in a silence full of words
and you mistake my tired expression
for something akin to boredom
or unexplained irritation
and tell me to smile
because things can't be that bad

This tiredness makes me a ghost