Sleep escapes me again.
I listen to the train whistles come farther apart
And the wheels on pavement grind to a halt
Lights that once illuminated the peaks and valleys of my skin have all extinguished.
And funny that a stranger stated my truth so plainly.
To describe these nights of torture ;
My existence ties my stomach in knots.
Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 11:14 PM UTC
Sleep escapes me again.
I listen to the train whistles come farther apart
And the wheels on pavement grind to a halt
Lights that once illuminated the peaks and valleys of my skin have all extinguished.
And funny that a stranger stated my truth so plainly.
To describe these nights of torture ;
My existence ties my stomach in knots.
Something my social work client said in a service meeting today. She has a cognitive delay and bulimia. She is a reminder that pain does not discriminate by color, religion, gender or intelligence. She is a reminder that mental health is simple, and yet so complex.
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