This river runs deep;
I write in my sleep.
If you could see the things I see,
You too would have to speak.
I have been frozen,
Never truly chosen,
Many times broken,
But now I feel the heat, burning inside of me.
Pressure builds so I pick up the quill
And I will never be still, until…
But now I am here,
So I hope you can hear,
The words I cannot help but write,
In the middle of this pitch black night;
The phone my only light.
Predictive text, has only left, me to forget, a train of thought.
A lack of wed, no peace in bed, I write my best whilst wearing nought.
Insomnia it comes and goes, so even when my eyes are closed,
I may be watching all of those that creep along my wall.
The insect beings and spider queens have all joined teams,
To watch over me…and I can hear them talk.
Inside my dreams I am minute when I am mute.
If only you could hear my voice, maybe I could reach out for you.
As I fall down into oblivion’s din,
No saving grace is listening.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.