I am Tired and Everyone is an Idiot

This not too foreign of a feeling - Just when one finds themselves Growing strong - fragile, yet resilient From all that has had to have been withstood Something comes out of the peripheral Something seemingly hapless Yet ultimately feral Suddenly one sees the light No longer resides within the Sun And the most peculiar placement Of planets, stars, winds and clouds Suddenly, one comes to realize That under the light of love - lies melt And the friend, mother or familiar Sends the darkness to hell But here Each to his own solemn Solitary confinement Connected to every body but no one I reach for my golden apples Tied up in white chords I grow tired and the fruits grow bitter