Sleep
There will be times when
the best part of your day
will be crawling into
your unmade bed at the
earliest reasonable hour,
your body sinking into the
dent that has been there
since you dragged yourself
out of bed in the morning.
You will count down the hours
on your fingers, praying for
the moment when you can sleep
and forget it all, but trust
me, my friend - these days
will pass, and you will wake
one day and rise with a hope.
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.