You ask me how I am
“Tired”
I say
I slur

You preach your 3 hours of sleep
As though it is a feat
A competition in your mind
I know I have already won
Yet mine isn’t so victorious

I have felt years of heavy eyelids pulled down by black fingernails, the bruised under eyes and lust for more sleep

A weak bag of bones is all I am now
Collapsed at a laugh
Or a cry
My muscles show no strength
Neither do I