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but i never promised anything. this isn't much of a poem, but it's honest.
Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Words: 105 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 12-27-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3086685
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It's 11:11.
I am so tired but I don't want to sleep,
because sleep is the cousin of death and if
I get a taste of that I might break all of the promises
I ever made and swallow every single
goddamn pill in this house.
There's a bed upstairs waiting for me,
but I don't need to sleep.
The moments before are too long
and heavy where they stand.
God. I am not insane. I am not insane.
Barely human, perhaps.
The city was ripped from me and
without it I'm nothing.
Nothing.
But I am not insane.
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