An alarm cries,

“panic attack,” she sighs.

Every morning it repeats,

she grits her teeth.

 

Feet on the floor,

a click sounds as she unlocks the door.

She couldn’t sleep until she locked it

five times the night before.

 

“Should I shower, I should eat,”

She does neither but she can’t go back to sleep.

She stares in the mirror with her glazed eyes,

given depth by purple hues, with makeup she hides.

 

In the car, she sings, a beautiful voice,

but now her favorite songs have become mere noise.

Recklessly she makes her way down the road,

some days she wishes to never go home.

 

People depend on her, she goes home.

People need her here, she’ll never roam.

It’s her dream to leave, make her escape.

But she’s made a rut, and that’s now her place.

 

They day is done, though exhausted and dragging,

for normals, that’s normal; for her, that’s bragging.

Her tired bones hit the sheets, her tears her pillow meets,

Her heaven will be a good night’s sleep.