As the clock hits midnight she's once again staring
At her ceiling in the dark
She can't see it
It's not like she's admiring the cracks and color of each tile
No
She's letting everything
Every thought
Every word said
Every action
Every sound
That has occurred in her lifetime to play again
The blank dark black ceiling is really just a screen
Of moments to be be replayed and critiqued
When she's had enough of her minds torture
she flips to her side to fall asleep
Except her mind doesn't rest
It continues to race
Flashing pictures and sounds in a constant replay
Maybe if she closes her eyes it'll go away
But she can't shake it
She doesn't get rest from this overwhelming prison inside herself
- it hurts, so badly
YOU ARE READING
You Are Everything
PoetryA collection of poems for the over thinkers, hopeless romantics, and beautiful souls. May these reach you and help you in any way possible.
