I Hope For A Massage.

When was it?

When was the last time?

Your gentle touch

My sore shoulders

I miss that feeling

The stress leaving me

Laughing, crying, falling.

One day I hope you'll see

There's too many worlds on my frail shoulders.

I must shake them off.

But if I do

Who will hold them up?

I'm afraid they would be hurt.

So

In the end

I'll still carry this weight

Even if it kills me.