Single Serve Flash Fiction: Poetry. “Missing.”

A bit of poetry today.

“Missing”
Today, I find myself missing. People. Ideas. Things.
I miss having the capacity to think of myself.
I miss having little to take care of.
I miss the days of being prudently carefree.
I miss the me I used to be.
Work work work. No pay, everyday.
This life does not run itself.
By nightfall, there is so little left for me. Of me.
I cater, day in and day out, to others.
Demands. Commands. Ask, ask, ask.
Sometimes, I dream only of myself.
I am tired.
Almost too tired to sleep.
Cracked.
But not broken.
Or am I?
Today, I find myself missing. People. Ideas. Things.