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Apr 2017
my lethargic limbs ache
taut against the strings.
****** around
by a puppet-master
with invisible hands.
perpetually exhausted.
i sleep,
but i do not rest.
just once,
i'd like to wake up
on the right side
of the bed.
instead, i keep
waking in a sweat
at 3:00am, wishing
i was dead.
National Poetry Month, Day 19.
Pearson Bolt
Written by
Pearson Bolt  Ⓐ
(Ⓐ)   
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