12 A.M.
Most nights sleep evades me,
While my brain tries to rest my mind goes wild,
Running through thousands of acres in the fields of negativity,
Maybe if I get some sleep tomorrow will be better,
But counter-intuition leaves me knowing tomorrow will never be better,
Tomorrow I will be stuck feeling lesser and lesser,
Trying my best to keep going,
I write down my thoughts and use my notepad as a confessor,
If nights are going to be like this for the remainder of this miserable life,
Why live?
That's right, I am not necessarily living, rather existing.
I pray for my own lack of reminiscence
If only memory could fade away as fast as my hope does,
Maybe then could I retain my adolescent minds innocence.
Until then I wait,
Until the day I may be able to say I am truly happy