sometimes I go to sleep

with my pillow covering my eyes

and wanting to never wake again

 

I lie in bed

thinking, dreaming, wishing

for the sun to disappear

so the night stays 

with me, beside me

forever and ever

 

one more day

I have to play by the rules again

one more routine

repetition at its finest

one more performance

but I'm tired of performing

 

it's okay, I comfort myself

I can do one more day

but how many more days can I lie

work plagues my mind

a sickness that makes my body frail

I'm scared of succumbing to it

 

small moments ground me

they are reminders that life

is more than just a routine

the taste of peppermint ice cream on my tongue

the warmth from the crackling fire

the strength I draw from holding her hand

 

it's worth waking up

despite my fears of becoming

another gear in society's machine

the alternative is much worse

procrastination drags and drags and drags

leaving the remnants of my memories behind

 

so tell me honestly

does my lack of motivation define me?

is this who I am