An Insomniac’s wails

They adviced :

Don’t Think.

Don’t Over-think.

Stay Calm. Be still.

Remain Silent.

So in the quiet. 

I couldn’t feel the calm,

Why ?

is it the chirping of crickets and insects?

is it the whispers of the winds ?

is it the pitter patter of the raindrops ?

is it the roaring of the thunder ?

is it the flashes of lightning ?

is it the feeling of nothing ?

is it the tic-tic of my clock ?

is it the rotating of my ceiling fan ?

is it the rustling of sheets as I toss and turn ?

is it my burning eyes wishing to sleep ?

is it my heart that is mourning in an unknown agony ?

is it my brain that refuses to rest ?

is it my fear of not good enough ?

is it the anxiety of not finding a way out ?

What is it ?

Tell me insomnia, why did you choose me ?

because I did not choose a habbit 

to drain me, of me.

I can’t think Why ?

When all else is a buzzing thought,

fears and anxieties,

hurts and wishes,

prayers and memories,

faded voices and visualised musings,

sounds of agony, and harmony of dreams,

several nightmares trapped deep within,

what is unthinkable ? is something not yet known,

if you could help me , I wouldn’t have to forever mourn !

Please , Oh please!  I begged,

help me not think.

Thinking is a trap,

it erodes me in. 

I can’t refuse , can’t make it stop,

no lullaby, no words,

can sing me a song. 

and every night I struggle 

my spirit breaks down in silent sobs.


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