My sleep is always hurting
I try to heal with thoughts of waking
dreams and nightmares all colliding
bottled hope rattles empty
days and nights mere surrounding
am I asleep alive or living?
Torn from frown again to grinning
saying words but still not speaking
night again my bed is calling
silenced scream a pain unknown
fight temptation the subtle illusion
sleep awake and pray till morning rise
YOU ARE READING
Soft Curses of Angels - Volume 1 - A Fistful of Dust
PoesíaThe earliest part of my chronological anthology of bad poetry. Estimated age at time of writing 12-16. I both thank and apologise to any soul who takes the time to read these.
