It’s midnight.
My pale yellow walls,
Illuminated by a faint,
Yellow glow.
My bed feels,
Like a wired rug.
Digging into my back,
Like a shovel dug to dirt.
Each fraction of movement,
Sends groans through its frame.
My pillow won’t,
Sit my head right.
My blanket is too much.
I’m worried,
it’s too late in the night.
My thoughts race like a car,
Too much to tame.
I fear the voices in my head,
Are making me go insane.
It’s midnight.
It’s late.
The world is quiet.
Except for my head.
I JUST WANT
TO GO TO BED! :(