2 a.m. poem
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Poetry: 2 A.M.

We've all had those sleepless nights that causes our brains to betray us.

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https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-sleeping-1497855/
https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-sleeping-1497855/

Bright screens keep me awake

with DIY videos after ones about conspiracies,

following documentaries of medical marvels.

A burning sensation filled my eyes.

I could feel the redness overcome them.

It was time to sleep.

I closed my eyes to see flashing red, purple, orange, and blue spots

under my eyelids.

Then, I opened my eyes to clouding, white lights

flying over my head.

I regret opening my eyes.

Anxiety and paranoia took over.

I tried to fight it and won.

My heartbeat slowed.

Calmness.

Sleep.

The refrigerator buzzes, filling an empty bucket with ice.

I close my eyes and I hear screams.

I hear a rope slowly swinging,

on the verge of snapping from the weight it was supporting.

In fear, I open my eyes to pure darkness,

as well as to small planetarium night light.

The relic from my childhood brings me peace.

A nirvana like being held tightly by your mother

when you fall and scrape your knee.

A calmness reborn from tears.

My eyes grow heavier,

on the brink of liberating slumber.

Then, a knock came.

A single knock,

but sure indeed, a knock.

I held my breath, waiting for another,

but it never came.

Clasping my cotton-stuffed nightly companion,

I closed my eyes and thought of the morning light.

Six more hours,

I kept repeating to myself in comfort.

With the beating rhyme of the rain,

I slowly drifted into slumber.

My heart following the same beat.

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