deepundergroundpoetry.com
When I Wake
When I wake
It's like I've been at war
With sleep
There's eyeliner across my cheek
War paint
To match my tangled hair
No longer safely tucked in
Where it belongs
And there's
The ringing in my ears that
Replays the night's fight songs
Of all my years
Of all the struggles
I face in my sleep
And all the fog I wade though
When I get up and walk
Toward the street
Hand on the door, I think
What am I here for
Where am I at
Who am I now
Wait
Hesitate
Go back the way you came
Wake up with bruises on your legs
Who is yelling
Who is crying
Why is there a handprint
On my chest
So just know
If you dare to lie next to me
And you choose to look at me
Rubbing sleep from my eyes
One sock on and one sock off
You’ll know
I wrestled demons in my sleep
Pieces of me that won’t let me weep
Pinning me down
Grinning with glee
Can’t breathe
I’ll catch my breath and stumble
To wash away any crumbles
Of what’s left, the sort of sleep
Where you can’t let go
Can't release
The guards that keep
You from fighting sheep
What you’ll see is what’s leftover
There’s mascara tears
Black and deep
There’s twisted sheets
At your feet
When I wake
From the war of sleep.
It's like I've been at war
With sleep
There's eyeliner across my cheek
War paint
To match my tangled hair
No longer safely tucked in
Where it belongs
And there's
The ringing in my ears that
Replays the night's fight songs
Of all my years
Of all the struggles
I face in my sleep
And all the fog I wade though
When I get up and walk
Toward the street
Hand on the door, I think
What am I here for
Where am I at
Who am I now
Wait
Hesitate
Go back the way you came
Wake up with bruises on your legs
Who is yelling
Who is crying
Why is there a handprint
On my chest
So just know
If you dare to lie next to me
And you choose to look at me
Rubbing sleep from my eyes
One sock on and one sock off
You’ll know
I wrestled demons in my sleep
Pieces of me that won’t let me weep
Pinning me down
Grinning with glee
Can’t breathe
I’ll catch my breath and stumble
To wash away any crumbles
Of what’s left, the sort of sleep
Where you can’t let go
Can't release
The guards that keep
You from fighting sheep
What you’ll see is what’s leftover
There’s mascara tears
Black and deep
There’s twisted sheets
At your feet
When I wake
From the war of sleep.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 1
reads 386
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.