PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When I'm laying in my bed,

with these shadows on the wall,

No counting sheep,

Not nothing at all.

I close my eyes only to stay wide awake,

Sleeping pills just fade away ,

The bags under my eyes explain the pain,

The pain of trying to fall asleep.

I pull out a box,

Inside is the perfect remedy, 

Once lit the smoke will fill the air,

The body will become more and more relaxed,

With each puff and exale my eyes begin to get tired.

The eyelids start to close,

The body begins to comatose in relaxation. 

The drag of the blunt has done his Jon.

Goodbye Insomia 420 won again.