Soliloquy

There must be a place far from here
That is not quite so worn out and spent
My mind’s pulled down by the sheer 
Umpteenth weight of this mighty ascent
A place that boasts of an atmosphere
That’s very different to the one present
Where birds are caged not by fear
And the mighty winds sometimes relent
Although in honesty it might appear
That excellence I seek to such an extent
I have lost the will to scrape and tear
And my mind is in constant torment
It helps to have my conscience clear
I may have figured out what it meant 
There’s perfection that’s not severe
Some days’ll always be worn out and spent.