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Suicide Notes Are Poetry In Disguise
hi, it's me again, it's 5 in the morning,
this thing just hit me, without any warning,
it's not that i don't sleep well, it's i don't sleep,
brain won't shut off, like it's always sugared up, like it's a peep,
for the past several nights, i've tossed and turned for hours,
looking at the clock, time - in the middle of the night - so slowly devours,
i think, what could be causing this? i have little to worry about,
if quality sleep and feeling refreshed were tiles, i'd be the grout,
always in between, as each day passes i feel more and more worried,
like death is on its way, already dispatched, and its famished and hurried,
anxiety grows, nervousness further betrays my sleep, paranoia takes hold,
i'm so scared of every debilitating possibility, i feel exhausted, aged and old,
bedtime routine useless now, i need e.c.t., i need to reset my brain, ambien barely works,
my fear of a lack of sleep contributes to just that, smiles replaced by deranged smirks,
the clock ticks, my eyes blink, the black of the room remains black,
i shift positions, so far from happiness, so far from its designated track,
i'm not afraid of dying, just afraid of slowly, knowingly, dying young,
body and brain detached, the pendulum of normalcy jerks, like this it's never swung,
i sit here, so tired, so wired, what do i do?
it's the last thing i want, but if robbed of sleep - then i'm through...
