Tired

poetry
the pain returns
behind my eye
the right eye
or is it the wrong one?

i tilt without intent
my head falling
the opposite of upright
but not upwrong

i spend uncounted minutes
staring, acting busy
not doing
not building
not producing value

thoughts flow
like oil left in the cold
solid now, liquid once
with potential to be
liquid again if warmth returns

But the cold pain
returns instead
behind my right eye
which may just be the wrong one

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