Ballad of an over thinker

Not good at sleep

I'm not good at sleeping

In all honesty I don't enjoy it

A once peaceful renewal has turned into nothing more than tossing and turning trying to coax my haphazard mind into agreeing it needs rest

Sweaty palms and tired eyes as I stare at the ceiling

With warm salty puddles forming on either side of my cheeks

It's become more of a nuisance

Because it requires me to be alone with my thoughts

And the difficult memories that play through my head

Like a horror movie I feel like I've seen a thousand times

It's exhausting

Never would you think that sleep could be so exhausting