Written by: Connie Marcum Wong

Your angry voice tells me
you are tired, tired not just
physically from the drain of
responsibilities, but from feeling
forced to continue to trod the
same burdensome path—
A path that steepens as the
years close in and you feel you 
must stretch yourself beyond
the point of knowing how far.
I hear desperation in your 
angry voice, and I see that 
little boy who stifles his
cries to act like a man in
a world that has no room
for the dreams of a child or
for the dreams of a tired man.
It is easier to let your angry voice
speak to tell me these things.

© 2012 Connie Marcum Wong