Sometimes the day after the night I don't sleep.
With eyes wide, my heart beats, with angry lines
Across my face,
looking like my crinkled sheet.
I can't think about anything.
Can't think....
So I spread my heat on the lines
Of one crinkled sheet of notebook paper,
A page that looks, I think
A whole lot like me the day after the night I don't sleep.
So I can reflect on what it is that day I wan't to be.
I guess today I am a scribbled
Poem on notebook paper,
Most normal people
Might through away.