Tired.
I want to lie down
In the hall
And sleep.
Ignore the people
Walking over me.
Just like always.
Just make it home
Stumble over
Invisible hands.
Blue fog.
Not the navy.
Just a soft,
Sky
Blue.
Just make it home
Just make it home
The bus doors shut
I collapse on the seat.
Droopy eyes.
Exhaustion.
Sweet dreams
YOU ARE READING
Diary of Insanity
PoetryKeep it together Jess. I hope sprinting through the halls was considered keep it together. out of control. I was slipping just hold on... hold on...