At Night

When it’s the middle of the night and I’m not allowed to sleep,
I panic and I feel wretched and I slowly start to weep.

The weeping turns to anger and I feel out of control,
Hate myself, hate no sleep, into darkness I begin to fall.

Evil words leave my mouth and cruelly abuse those who are near,
Words I don’t mean designed to sting all fuelled by anxiety and fear.

Not being rational I think the worse and always sink so low,
I want to run, I want to escape and get out of here just go.

There’s no air, I can’t focus, I need time out just to breathe.
But all I do is hear the noise, and scream and shout and seethe.

And when it stops or I’ve blocked it out the calmness soon comes back,
Rational again, able to cope, with everything colourful not black.

I say I’m sorry, guilt sets in and I feel I’ve let everyone down.
The day is hard I struggle through, wrinkles formed by a constant frown.

Will this always be a weakness, will no sleep a trigger be?
Is this what it’s lasting legacy is, the bitch that’s PND.

Prose for Thought

5 thoughts on “At Night

  1. Although I have never suffered from PND this also sums up insomnia so very well – whilst it is nowhere near what you have to go through, the feelings are very reminiscent. It is lovely to read more of your poems lovely, hope you aren’t suffering xx Thank you for linking to Prose for Thought xx

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