Into a Cocoon

Well, it's early on a Sunday morning.
I should be sleeping, but I'm not.
I'll just pour myself another drink
And hope my wakefullness'll be shot.
It's been a time since something mattered.
Tomorrow doesn't look like a change.
I guess the last couple of years took a toll.
Is it normal for the strange to feel strange?
I keep telling myself what I should do.
But I don't listen worth a damn.
Tired of fighting for nothing,
Especially when all the fighting's a sham.
My iron resolve just feels rusted through.
Be it peace or a real battle, I need something new.

©2011 Jeffrey S. DeArruda