The mind – a dim, hazy blur.
Restless muscles, not a second of comfort.
Deprived of sleep, a walking soulless spirit of the nights.
Mornings seem dark and groggy.
Every day, a new kind of pain.
Writing in the present state,
A futile attempt.
Tea and Prose
The mind – a dim, hazy blur.
Restless muscles, not a second of comfort.
Deprived of sleep, a walking soulless spirit of the nights.
Mornings seem dark and groggy.
Every day, a new kind of pain.
Writing in the present state,
A futile attempt.