My eyes flick over the textured ceiling,
connecting dots and making patterns
like some kind of giant Rorschach test.
I surrender to cliché and tell myself that
if I can just get through the night
that tomorrow will be different,
that everything will be fine in the morning,
but the dawn rarely brings salvation.
I close my eyes instead and listen
to the sounds of owls awakening,
asking questions that have no answers.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:11 PM UTC
My eyes flick over the textured ceiling,
connecting dots and making patterns
like some kind of giant Rorschach test.
I surrender to cliché and tell myself that
if I can just get through the night
that tomorrow will be different,
that everything will be fine in the morning,
but the dawn rarely brings salvation.
I close my eyes instead and listen
to the sounds of owls awakening,
asking questions that have no answers.
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