Please don’t turn out the lights.
You murdered sleep,
taking only what you needed,
leaving me alone to try to dream,
but being the farthest from succeeding.
Left with terrors plaguing unfulfilling rest,
paralysis clawing at my heart,
suffocating,
while resting on my chest.
Lungs fill with water,
while I drown in imagination,
gasping, barely breathing.
“You can come lay with me,
or just roll over and die.”
He ***** at my gasping lips,
my last breath.
Awaken,
only by my piercing scream,
in a cold puddle, sweating.
You took what you wanted.
You murdered sleep.