Sep 2021
The pen feels heavy in my hands
a boulder I struggle to lift
“Just 5 more questions” I say
As the clock glares at me
With its face of 1 am
It changes its expression
To 2 am
3 am
4 am
Until I finish and my bones are solid gold
that weight me down
Every fiber of my body screams in agony
“Help us please, why must you torture us so?!”
It’s the vicious cycle experienced every night
For as long as I can remember
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Well how about the procrastination
Or the lack of sleep?
I have stopped cutting my flesh open long ago
I have stopped putting sharp, merciless steel
To brown soft skin
I have stopped scratching at my arms
With the fury of Cerberus
Trying to drag me back
to that dark place I call
My own personal Hell
But I must enjoy the throbbing
of my bruised heart
Because I continue to self-harm myself
Only it doesn’t show itself by angry scars
At the wrists
It doesn’t show it’s ashamed face
Through large open wounds
That look like zombie bites
No, it manifests in a different way
It manifests through the dark ringlets under my eyes
And the numerous yawns that escape my mouth
I heard that a good night’s sleep
Makes everything better
So why
Do I continue to ignore this
And break myself down into chunks of insomnia
With pages of quadratic formulas
And stoichiometry?
I told my mom
“I have trouble falling asleep
Even when the night is a quiet auditorium
And I’m a lone musician without an instrument
Inside of it.”
She told me
“So count sheep.”
But my mind can’t count sheep
It only counts reasons to stay awake
So I tip toe to the window
That leads to my roof
And look up at the scarce stars
That resemble the tears on my cheeks
I plead with them,
Begging them to use their starlight magic
To make this treacherous night end
But they only twinkle back
In a mocking tone
So as I sit writing this poem
In my mind I write another one
About a girl
Who isn’t a broken butterfly
With delicate wings ripped in half
But an eagle soaring through life with confidence
And a restful night
I think that girl is trying to tell me something vital
About how the stars took her in
And made her whole
But my eyelids are collapsing on themselves
As the world slowly drifts to black
I hope I get to hear what she says
In my dreams.
a boulder I struggle to lift
“Just 5 more questions” I say
As the clock glares at me
With its face of 1 am
It changes its expression
To 2 am
3 am
4 am
Until I finish and my bones are solid gold
that weight me down
Every fiber of my body screams in agony
“Help us please, why must you torture us so?!”
It’s the vicious cycle experienced every night
For as long as I can remember
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Well how about the procrastination
Or the lack of sleep?
I have stopped cutting my flesh open long ago
I have stopped putting sharp, merciless steel
To brown soft skin
I have stopped scratching at my arms
With the fury of Cerberus
Trying to drag me back
to that dark place I call
My own personal Hell
But I must enjoy the throbbing
of my bruised heart
Because I continue to self-harm myself
Only it doesn’t show itself by angry scars
At the wrists
It doesn’t show it’s ashamed face
Through large open wounds
That look like zombie bites
No, it manifests in a different way
It manifests through the dark ringlets under my eyes
And the numerous yawns that escape my mouth
I heard that a good night’s sleep
Makes everything better
So why
Do I continue to ignore this
And break myself down into chunks of insomnia
With pages of quadratic formulas
And stoichiometry?
I told my mom
“I have trouble falling asleep
Even when the night is a quiet auditorium
And I’m a lone musician without an instrument
Inside of it.”
She told me
“So count sheep.”
But my mind can’t count sheep
It only counts reasons to stay awake
So I tip toe to the window
That leads to my roof
And look up at the scarce stars
That resemble the tears on my cheeks
I plead with them,
Begging them to use their starlight magic
To make this treacherous night end
But they only twinkle back
In a mocking tone
So as I sit writing this poem
In my mind I write another one
About a girl
Who isn’t a broken butterfly
With delicate wings ripped in half
But an eagle soaring through life with confidence
And a restful night
I think that girl is trying to tell me something vital
About how the stars took her in
And made her whole
But my eyelids are collapsing on themselves
As the world slowly drifts to black
I hope I get to hear what she says
In my dreams.
