I need to get some rest, but I don’t want to sleep in bed

I should switch off my mind, but negative thoughts fill my head

I hate slaving in the fields, but I don’t want to work inside

Oh why do I feel so out of sorts? I am resisting the urge to cry!

John there are other options, can’t you leave this line of work;

When you feel so haggard all the time and your body always hurts?

Fancy going from a tailor to a farmer, my dear it really is a shame;

For your great talents are being wasted, you don’t want to end up lame.

Maira, I dislike being stuck in a work place, and hardly seeing the light

Please stop worrying about me, for it is stopping you sleeping at night

Maira, you’re over reacting, I am hardly working myself to death;

How can you suggest such a thing, when this is the only option left?

My tired head aches horribly, and now I can hardly think straight;

Oh why must I feel so rotten and lie here in this state?

I have woken baby Andrew, oh my son I am so terribly sorry;

That I disturbed you from your sleep with my behaviour so melancholy

Your Daddy wants to be here for you, but instead he is slaving away;

For 12 hours a day, 6 days a week; this is the first time I have held you today.

©Sophie Bowns 2011-2014


12 thoughts on “Out Of Sorts

    1. Hello Alana;
      No, I think I’d submit “Teddy” first. I’m not 100% happy with “Theodore” especially. I’d be tempted to write a redraft of it.
      We shall see….

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