Poem 8

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Bed peace- insomnia

I fight with my bed sometimes
In the nights when it wants to give me comfort
I don't hesitate to deny it
My heart that needs this desperately

Still, it wraps its sheets around me
While I toss and turn and punch a pillow
(Just sleep!)
Not until my green eyes and swollen feet decide to let me go

So an hour passes
I hear myself sigh in defeat
Where will this war, these scars and my tears lead?
To heaven? (maybe if I stop cussing)
To hell? (nah, not even satan accepts my invitation)

So why fight the comfort?
Why do I fight with my bed?
Perhaps I cannot believe it expects me to receive the gift that is peace
After I have fought for so long and war is all I know.

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