The Hours of Repair

Robbed me of myself
I have created
This crotchety version
That nobody likes
Having around
Hours of sleep
Abandoned to television
And other insignificant activities
Then a futile attempt to recover
That which I have deprived my body
It cannot be done
This catchup of sleep
The damage already inflicted
And though I close my eyes longer
I land up doing it again
My worries keeping me company
In the late nights and early mornings
Spent away from my bed
And the world adds fuel to the flames
Of uncontrolled burning energy
And I miss the humour of life
In my exhausted state
And I miss living, waiting to have strength
When I could give it to myself
By being asleep
In the twenty-three-hundred hour
The administrative time of my brain
To file that which needs archiving
Release the data not worth remembering
And make space for clarity
It is time to sleep

Debbie Gravett © 2022.03.20

FOWC: Crotchety
RDP: Futile

Image by Ajay kumar Singh from Pixabay

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