Sleeplessness

Would that my life were bound like a book

With pages of my hardships weighed and cold like lead

Blistering my cracked fingers in my attempts to divide them

And cut too quickly by pages of my apathy and excuses

Like fine parchment paper I could tear them out

And bind them in a chain around my worries.

A small piece of poetry to help settle my thoughts before bed, first thing I’ve written in a long time. Been reading too much John Keats.