she doesn't want to admit how bad it gets at the peaks of her loneliest days,
alone at night, no one to look up to,
and with no one to hold on to,
because she thinks it'll go away,
she believes the words that scream "it's just a phase"
from a mouth that hasn't gone through it..
It's not a ******* phase, she wants to think
but what does she do, with her arms on her chest, eyes locked to the ceiling?
she keeps her eyes open,
hoping that her mind will empty out itself
though she knows it won't happen
because she's an insomniac.