I should turn on the light,
But the dark, it's so aesthetic.
the rainy dusk escapes my window,
Granting a soft grey glow to my dark gray room.
the heartbeats are lullabies,
Trying to calm the rapid among them.
the temptation of a bottle calls my name,
To depress my neurons and stop the pain,
It demands be felt.
A closed book less emotional than the rapid,
Only 23 chapters to go.
the light begins to fade,
the pages cannot be seen, now.
the rapid rhythm slows,
Down to a steady beat.
the expected numb after mandatory self-expression swallows.
the bed is so soft,
the floor hard.
Achey joints groan as I choose my place of slumber.
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