This is a sonnet
It is 12 AM as I lay awake,
My brain is clouding in a raging storm.
Thinking of all my horrible mistakes,
All the demons in my head taking form.
The darkness surrounding me in this room,
This dark door of mine has yet to open.
Makes me feel as if I am in a tomb.
Why do I always have to feel broken?
The pouring waters erupt from my eyes,
Heart tearing with this overwhelming guilt.
Clutching this pen, writing down my goodbyes,
I think of those who tore down the walls I built.
I put the pen and paper all away,
And I get ready to start a new day.
