She said to me, "I'm losing sleep!
I just don't understand.
The pillow feels so scruff below my
shaking and chapped hands.
The blankets all feel much too hot,
no sheets is much too cold.
I tried warm milk and it tasted sour and
made my soul feel old."
I said to her, "Just close your eyes.
The sleep will surely come.
Listen to the oxygen flowing
straight into your lungs.
Why don't you try a piece of toast?
That always helps me sleep.
Clear your mind of any thoughts
or secrets you must keep."
My friend still is not at ease,
for she sits upright in bed,
and God alone could only know
what goes inside her head.
Looking at her, I know full well what's
keeping her from sleep.
It's not the pillow, milk, or stomach-
especially not the sheets.
In her eyes I see the cogs whirring
behind those lids.
This look I've seen in glass reflections,
a look you never rid.
I cannot save her myself.
I am much too weak.
Instead I give her half a pill
so she can get some sleep.
CZYTASZ
dear karma
Poezja"I burned in my fire yet dozed in the grass. I ruined my chances and can't get them back." .... A collective of poems describing depression, self-love, anxiety, and growing up from the mind of a teenage girl.
