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Insomnia, insomnia

on my pillow.

By Emily SerenaPublished 5 years ago 1 min read

sickened by how effortlessly

how indifferently

one day stitches it’s weary self

seamlessly

onto another.

so odd.

disgusted by the lack of respect shown

as today proceeds to offer itself zero credit

and chooses to disappear

as pointless background murmur of tommorow.

so bizarre.

maybe a day will come where it understands

the whole importance of its entirety

where it’s divine

in its powerful knowledge

it’s what gives birth to every past & new second.

yet

today, hasn’t got it yet.

today is bedridden with my insomnia

as I wander my bedroom, fussing

over the today

after the particular day

that I’m currently experiencing.

im infected with time, like it’s a virus

it can’t be chased, yet I’m always busy

chasing it.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Emily Serena

truly, my dharma (life purpose) is to write. although death is an interesting means of a beggining to me rather than an end, I still choose to spend my moments as Emily, in this physical dimension, in a revolution of poetry & silent speech

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