rings underneath my eyes.
the body's way of telling me,
"sleep."
does it not comprehend
that i'm trying?
3 hours, and i'm energetic.
happy even.
6 hours, and i'm okay.
headache, tummy ache, but fine.
10 hours, and i'm tired again.
half-asleep the entire day.
what makes me so backwards?
why am i twisted?
what did i do to deserve this?
my brain chimes in,
"it's just that..."
it pauses for a while, searching for words.
"everything is *so *scary**"
body, stop telling *me* to sleep.
i'm trying my best.
i was born with a brain that doesn't understand
how to live with fear.
i was born with a brain that thinks *crying*
is a defense mechanism.
i was born with a brain that panics in sleep,
flooding what should be a restful night
with all of these
toxic reveries.
body, it's not my fault.
kaley, it's not your fault.