Worry is the runner on my mind;
it races around the circular track without knowing the finish line
My chest is heavy with the weight of stress
I am stuck in a riptide
tossing and turning to avoid suffocation
waves of regret collapse over me
I breathe in their salty disposition
It spills out my tear ducts
I drown in my thoughts and bathe in drowsiness
I choke on feathers and the counted sheep
Red eyes so fixed on the clock that creeps
Oh how I loathe the evening heap.