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rachel-scottPoems
My bitter friend, For when I'm sleeping, I am not angry, I am not lonely, I am not sad. I'm just me. Slumber is not my trouble, But waking to the nightmare existence that I live, To which I must concede. My dreams are of you, Playing,      Laughing,           Running,                Happy,                      Smiling... And WAKING to....                                          NOTHING... A hole in my heart,                                               NOTHING... Emptiness in my arms where your head used to lay...                                                           NOTHING!! Who really NEEDS sleep? It's getting old anyway....
0
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
Sleep,
My bitter friend, For when I'm sleeping, I am not angry, I am not lonely, I am not sad. I'm just me. Slumber is not my trouble, But waking to the nightmare existence that I live, To which I must concede. My dreams are of you, Playing,      Laughing,           Running,                Happy,                      Smiling... And WAKING to....                                          NOTHING... A hole in my heart,                                               NOTHING... Emptiness in my arms where your head used to lay...                                                           NOTHING!! Who really NEEDS sleep? It's getting old anyway....
i wrote this in mind of well my baby girl and a dear friend who lost her son years ago.
Written by
rachel-scott
American
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
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