the prison of night:
its a quiet kind of torture,
lying in the dark, staring at nothing.
the ceiling looms above me,
an endless void where hours crawl by,
slow and heavy, pressing down on my chest
like a weight i cant shake off.
im tired—God, im tired—
but sleep wont come.
it teases me, hovering just out of reach
while my mind races in circles,
replaying every thought ive buried,
every regret, every whispered memory
that i wish i could forget.
the world slips away, one dream at a time,
and im left here, stranded,
a passenger in my own body.
my breathing is too loud,
my skin too raw against the sheets,
and the stillness becomes a prison
im trapped inside.
my eyelids burn,
my body aches in places i cant name,
but my brain refuses to stop.
refuses to let go of the noise,
the spiraling, endless noise
that turns the silence into a scream.
and the worst part—the part that kills me—
is the waiting.
waiting for sleep that never comes,
for the night to release me from its grip,
for the sun to rise and start another day
im too broken to face.
i lie here, drowning,
helpless against the flood of my own thoughts,
and its as if time has forgotten me.
hours stretch into forever,
and i wonder if this is what it feels like
to disappear into yourself,
to be lost in a darkness
that never ends.
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poesietrigger warning. dont expect you to read this, words are simply that. just words. but if you do i hope you enjoy 👍 and if you relate to any of these, im so sorry. (all of these are original and written by me unless its said otherwise) might also in...
