Every day I creep to bed, slowly, silently, cautiously.
I pay attention, because I’m not alone. No, I am not alone.
For with me, in my bed, I bring many things.
I go slow, so my problems don’t follow.
I stay silent, so my worries won’t speak.
I remain cautious, so my regrets let me sleep.
It would be nice, to fall asleep, as if that were easy to me.
But no, no, I never sleep… not until I pass out.
Hours and hours, tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling,
Just quietly thinking about my life and what I could be doing.
I should do more.
I should complain less.
I could be better.
I could take care of myself.
I should care.
I shouldn’t care.
I should speak up.
I shouldn’t speak up.
I’ll spend the night, listening to myself tell me horrible things…
If only I could get some sleep.
If only then, I could sleep.