INSOMNIA feels like your fixed time through a personal hell.
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Every night I live and die
Perhaps a thousand times
Trying to put my fatigued eyelids to rest
And yet they wander like a lost child in a storm.
I feel like a radio stuck in my head
Murmuring white noise piercing my ear drums
Dreadful like songs of the demons that crawl out of my
My body lies awfully still
Covered in a straightjacket of my fears and those pills
Taking breaths that are sound and deep
Yet I never run out of sheeps.
It is at dawn that birds start chirping their routine
And placid souls withdraw themselves from their
It is at dawn that my nocturnal fears wither away and
my heart waits for a day worse than yesterday.