Im sleeping in the dark
With my eyes wide open,
Counting the restless hours
That pile up behind my head.
The hours are the leaping sheep
That fly across the moon
But never cease to end.
An eternal haunting of cotton clouds
But I will count the sheep until i die.
And retire to my own clouds above
To keep on counting
Till the night be comes day
And the dark catches up to the light.
My blood shot eyes will cry
Tears of red joy when they close
For the last time in miserable peace
And my royal sepulchre, the Earth
Will gentely close my eyes for me
Next to the brave and the mighty
And let my eyes sink under the waves
YOU ARE READING
The Neo-Bipolar
ПоэзияIm actually terrified to share this stuff with you all. I struggle with a lot of demons and really just need the support and superficial attention that I lack. This is continued poetry from bipolar poems, just a new me, some newer thoughts, feelings...
