Ramblings of Insomnia

I’ve kept pace with a 

neon-blue clock that states

without compassion to my disorder

resounding ticking in my mind,

and perhaps it is solely to annoy

him that I do waste his precious 

time on idle things that 

matter only to me.

If within me rebels even 

the ticking of a clock,

matching the pace of me 

mid-fight with my demons,

perhaps it partly is

simply an illusion,

a distraction from ourselves, 

the struggles of our neighbors,

deluding of things that take

too much or aren’t worth it,

and what if we are truly 

never wasting any time?

Begin again 

and start the day anew.

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