His Search Read Count : 7

Category : Poems

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4 A.M
I wander aimlessly searching for sleep.

She proves difficult to grasp, for I am merely a lost child searching, crying for his savior.

In my bed, where I lie, where the heat ignites my skin under the fabric of protection, where my eyes shut and I am sent to a landscape of a dense jungle.

You move too much.

I recoil from the crunching sound of my bones as I hit the ground, ending my descent from a cliff.

Shot awake, I open my eyes. Only to find that little sleep has been gained.

False premonitions of my future encage my sleep within steel bars and torture that manically follow the mind for years to come.

Why must time move so abruptly, so swift?

Must I be cursed with such an ability? Is it forbidden to request a backwards motion of the clock?

Sleep, I see you hiding, I grab your hand and we become one.

More wandering like this will always take place.

But, finally, I may rest for the night.

Comments

  • Jul 21, 2019

  • Maurice  Beres

    Maurice Beres

    Great poem about what many of us go through

    Jul 21, 2019

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