Toss And Turn At Night.

Colossal weight of decisions made,
penetrate my day to day.
Actions seeking the right words to speak,
congregate beneath my sheets.

I toss and turn at night.

Sleep is a bitch,
that wakes me up to argue at night.
Satisfied with the notion that I suffer when the skies light.

She’s angry with me.

So this is how she punishes me.
4:00am and she’s arguing with me.

“How could you sleep at a time like this?”

She’s being ironic.

Her sense of humour,
not mine.
I’m a lot funnier,
just ask anyone who thinks they know me.

I toss and turn at night


Arguments

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About the post

Poetry

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