Exhausted

I can not walk, though my feet do not ache,
I can not stand, though my knees do not quake.
I can not think, though my mind is not numb,
I can not weave, though there is no blister on my thumb.

I long to cry, but no tears fill my eyes,
I long to scream, but my voice hold no meaning.
I long to collapse, but I have to stand,
I long to rest, but this burden is always on my chest.

Why can't you hate me so I can die