a poem about insomnia
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It's half past one.
My restless night has just begun.
My feet are cold. My hands are hot.
Within my dreams what I forgot.
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Two thirty now.
I want to sleep but don't know how.
My dreams are nightmares. My past is now.
Booed off the stage before my bow.
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Three twenty six.
I toss and turn. The clock still ticks.
Three sleeping pills still can't fix
insomnia, and all it's tricks.
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It's five fifteen.
The last five hours I've hid a scream.
But if I sleep I know I'll see
my memories of misery.
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Six forty four.
I stare at nothing beyond my door.
I've tried the bed. The couch. The floor.
I just can't live like this no more.
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Alarm clock blares.
I wipe my eyes to rid the tears.
Roll out of bed to face my fears.
Exhausted. Dull.
Avoiding mirrors.
H