Exhaustion is like being exhausted.

In the Spirit of Tuttlemania, I’ve decided to post one of the poems that I did in class that I particularly enjoyed writing. It was the one on exhaustion that I did before we made our compiled poem in groups, and the poetic tool I had to work with was simile. If anyone has the compiled poem we made in the end, you should post that too!

Two hands rubbed to her head

like the hefty heaving of labored breath.

A pent up sigh of sweeping wind

was as trembling muscles urging onward.

Shutting out the world she closed her eyes

like arms that flag and will not rise.

It was a lust for sleep, so impossibly far

as the mountain of doom for the vicarious burden.

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