These days have got me so low
but the nights tend to make me worse
I no longer leave my four-cornered room
or the bed sheets that cover my worn and tired face
that have cried all of the tears that my eyes can produce
and these bed sheets no longer warm me at night,
my room no longer keeps me safe and sound,
the nights grow so much darker than before,
and the days just aren't long enough.
my poems are getting ******* and repetitive.