Sleep
To those suffering depression
#14
I tread water, weary in the waking hours.
Inflate myself against the swell and fall of breaking thoughts.
My salt, lost in the overwhelming vastness of the day.
Tired.
Darkness drags at me, wet,
The sweat of terrors that engulf,
My sleeping self.
I sink, heavy, into my own soul.
Deep.
No peace, they tear and bite me.
Trapped by a tiny pill,
As they emerge from scars that they once left to rip afresh,
Each night.
Fighting to break the surface,
My somnambulant self holds off the onslaught till the dawn,
To tread weary as my terror slips away from the light.
Alone.
