Just go to sleep;
Seems so simple to write.
Internal fight so mysterious,
Demands all might, made delirious
Saying goodnight over and over;
Trying so hard
To not try at all.
Just begging myself
Into slumber to fall,
But it’s true what they say:
There’s no rest for the wicked.
Impossible to catch even forty
Remembering memories naughty –
Like that time you were five
And you shat in your pants.
Thick and fast do they come:
The time you called teacher ‘mum’,
The times you failed as a son,
The time you wished you had won;
But instead you just run –
Chasing thoughts down rabbit holes
Into places where pasts and futures blend,
Every second of sleep being stole
By my own design – my own bitter end.