Instead of counting sheep,

I'm counting all of the sleepless nights

I'm alone with my bleeding heart

and aching feet.

and all of the mornings, where I

wake up and I can't breathe

where the sun streams in through my window panes

and I can't bear the stifling inferno of my own sheets.

I'm drowning inside, and I'm burning all over

and I can't stop.

I'm slowly wasting away.

I'm only breathing just to prove I can live another day.