confessions of a teenage insomniac.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
poetry from year 9. For Lawrence.

Submitted: July 19, 2012

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Submitted: July 19, 2012

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the sky is so pretty
at this time of day
nothing, just blackness 
as i sit here and lay
my back on the pillow
each side flaming hot
nowhere else to turn
where to go, where not.
my mind racing at paces
i didn’t know could exist
equations and poems
i can’t finish the list
of the things i’m wondering
and all the questions that swim 
in my brain at the moment
and i have to give in.
during the day i am lost
with no clue where to go
now i want to rest
but all these paths below
they weren’t there before
as i look into my past
i try to close my eyes
make it gone,
but it lasts.
why does this happen?
it’s just another
question i can’t ask
my father or mother,
i just want to sleep
make the pain go away
but curiouser and curiouser
is simply left to stay.
the sky is so pretty 
it’s all pitch black, you see
only to be understood
by an insomniac like me.


© Copyright 2017 Kathryn Thorne. All rights reserved.

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