Don't hate me-- I wrote a poem.

I can't share these feelings with people I know. So here you are: my latest testimonial to "exhaustion."
I call it STYX.
*****
Beyond Tired is the exhaustion,
Coming from a place I've never seen.
It's not someplace that I can go
And flip a switch or turn a knob.
Sometimes it trickles --but mostly flows
Like unseen plumbing behind a door,
Leaking water from a broken place
I cannot see, unreachable.
The damage seeps around my feet
Onto the floor and so much more.
Beneath a shining sun, blue sky
Everything beneath is soggy, wet
And heavy, mushy at my feet.
Stiff breezes make no ripple on the surface of this unwelcome pond.
Exhaustion sometimes dribbles sometimes flows.
No one cares to live with soggy feet.
Who wants to spend each day fighting the waves?
No sun or wind is powerful enough to dry the ocean.
Or a lake constantly fed by a waterfall of fatigue and damnation.
Cry me a river.