What is life?
It seems like some sick joke.
Like a prison you can't escape.
It feels like all we wait for is death.
Because we can't live without death.
But isn't that the fun of it?
We can't appreciate life without death.
Just like we can't appreciate day without night.
Or rain without fear of drought.
People take sleep for granted.
But then there are insomniacs.
The sleep deprived addicts.
Who crave sleep.
That would do anything for the relief of dreams.
Or even nightmares.
Even if it makes you scream and thrashe in your sleep.
But any form of relief.
As long as it gets you away.
Away from this hell your living.
Away from reality.
Away from the pain.
The pain others inflict on you.
Even the pain you inflict on yourself.
Anything to get you by.
Even if you have to cry yourself to sleep.
As long as all the hurt and pain goes away.
Even as the mental pain out weighs the physical.
It is always easier to deal with the physical.
So you always look for ways to take the pain away.
And you eventually find a way to do it.
No matter how unfortunate the outcome.
Even if you land in the eternal sleep.
To the place where their is infinite dreams.
Or nightmares.
YOU ARE READING
Ode To An Introvert
RandomI made poems and I hope you guys like them. I use poetry and music to get me through tough times. Poetry became an outlet of sorts. Anyway, enjoy. *Edit* (Story originally Poems of An Introvert) I'm also going to put stories up soon! I really like...
