by T.M.

I should be sleeping, but I'm thinking
Pondering and pontificating
On the state of little ole me.
Stomach in a tight ball
Like a child who's just lost his chance
To see a last fleeting glimpse
Of his innocent soul.
I should be sleeping, but
My mind runneth over
With reminiscings and questions
Of why we couldn't be,
Of where will I be,
Of how do I breathe
When the world suffocates the sh*# out of me
And I commence a daily battle with self,
Skipping right past the air assault
And waging war, head on
In a fight fueled with
Mental taxation,
All systems in overload,
Running on empty,
Praying I don't
The next opportunity
For anything better than this.

THIS by T.M.

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