And it's early in the morning
When your eyes decide to open
Even if it's far too sooner than the time you previously discussed
And you curse and you blame them
For all your sleeping trouble
For not closing at the right times
And you roll around in bed
Restless
As you come to the conclusion that your only choice is to get up
As boredom starts to creep into your bones
And yet you pick up your phone
And you write some unpoetic lines about waking up too early
And how your eyes never seem to open at the right times
And you know your only choice is to get up
But instead you're here
Writing some unpoetic poetry
About not sleeping right
YOU ARE READING
Deadly - Poetry
Poetry/Feel free to kill me anytime. Isn't that what you were made for?/
