I’m scared that if I sleep too much
I won’t want to wake again.
Like my book will be finished
If for a second, I set down the pen

I’m tired, yet I don’t sleep
My eye lids like a weighted blanket
As I live life half awake
While dreaming of a casket

I’m scared of sleeping too much
Scared of losing time
Or of being awake for too long
And instead losing my mind

So, yes, I’m afraid of sleep
Of what affect it would make
Afraid I’ll lose the will to live
And lose my will to wake

But how do I differentiate  
Between too much and just enough
And how do I say I’m doing fine
Without ending in a bluff

I have so little fight left in me
And so, I’m terrified
That if I’m offered a safe place
I’ll never cease to hide

Laugh.
Smile.
Don't pay attention to the pain of depression.
Don't brood on the things that force emotional concession.
Try to act average, don't draw attention.
Remember, seeing a loved one suffer can be harder on others.
Like thick smoke in a house, it brings tears and it smothers.
So when you feel empty, put on a smile.
It won't help yourself, but it might spare some pain for your sisters and brothers.
Just because you feel it, you don't have to show it.
The pain can be non-contiguous if no one else knows it.
Just make no important decisions while you're feeling below low.
You can't take that route, that's not how I'll go.
Just fight the good fight, and try not to cry.
That just makes things worse, I don't know why.
You have Hope, just keep the Word in your heart, and your eyes to the sky.
Things will be painful but this too shall pass.
Life is good, even though I feel low.
Keep this in your head:
Feeling low and alive, is better then getting high and then dead.
Yes, it seems obvious, but it had to be said.
If you keep these notes stored up in your head,
Then you'll seem less abnormal, more average instead.

i used to cry when nights were long.
when insomnia creeps in, everything feels wrong;
but honey, now that you're mine to keep,
my dopamine's too high - i can't even sleep.

but no, i don't shed tears anymore.
instead, i savor your smile and the rizz that you pour.
in still nights, i count our blissful memories;
the peace you bring means a lot to me.

i used to cry when i couldn't sleep.
now, i have become too happy to weep.

Ω

I do not know sleep.
Captured by unholy night,
suffering Stockholm.

when not the monsters under my bed
Make me have sleeples nights
But my own mind
Making me have a hard time

Forcing me to rhyme
And is torturing me in my own mind

Wishing upon my downfall
While making me cry
With the long ago scense
From my previous life

But who is it
that torments me in those lonely night?
Is it the night
who wakes me up
Or is it me,
who won't let my running thoughts cry?