Forced Slumber

Sleep has been my home today,
The world is hard to swallow.
I’ve taken all these pills today
But my pockets are still hollow.
How I’ve thrown away the hours
And slaughtered every moment.
I only wake to take a handful
Of a sleep aid more than potent.
What’s left of me is someone’s ghost.
Feet drag across the floor.
I’m useless in too many ways
And cut off from something more.

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Filed under poem, poetry

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