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The pills don’t
make me any better
anyway. It’s all just another
person’s scheme.
They just leave
a bitter taste…

…leave me bitter…

…without a mirror to save
face. And without a self
or even it’s esteem.
Without a saving grace.
Just simply without.

insomnia is just,/,tsuj si ainmosni
a word,/,drow a
these days,/,syad eseht
it all blurs into a,/,a otni srulb lla ti
breathless scream,/,maercs sselhtaerb

I wish upon some stars but they don’t
hear me calling.
Maybe because we are both too busy
lovelessly falling
from our broken skies and dreams.

I used to be so sure that these indignant
days would pass. That I’d reach a peak
up high above the flat. Made in my honour.
And peer into joy through a looking glass.

but, that, too, fell…

cracked,/,dekcarc

broke,/,ekorb

and, shattered,/,derettahs into morose,

just, like, everything else.

The apologies don’t reach this far down.
Sor-./.-roS

© poormansdreams

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