Sometimes I simply hate beds.
All I want is to curl awkwardly in an odd shape
on the couch and there is where I'll rest my head.
I really don't understand a regular day.
Because my mind flurries hurricanes at 1 am
and that's the only time I have things I want to say.
But no one is awake.

Sometimes I truly dread this life.
All I want is to finally fit into the shape of something
But I'm so crooked, broken, and full of strife.
I really don't understand how the rest of the world does it.
Someone please explain their ways of escape.
But I guess the goal isn't to escape, is it?
I've gone and lost it.
Once again.