The Long Night

I sit in my bed, as I have a thousand nights before,picking up the pieces. Pieces of a soul I’m not sure exists anymore.
I sit in my bed, as I have a thousand nights before. Will sleep come tonight? I wonder.
I sit in bed, as I have a thousand night before. Let’s rest, my mind says. It’ll be better tomorrow. I want to believe it. But what are the odds? There have a been a thousand nights before this and none have given way to a brighter morning.
I sit in bed, as I have a thousand nights before. It’s the best I can do, right? Sit. Wonder. Gaze at the moon, changing everyday. Oh how you wish you had that luxury. Changing. Everyday.

Tonight, I sit in bed again.
My head hurts.
My insides, too.
But there is no pain. It is all to familiar to cause any new agony. Fresh hurt. Craving for which was the last thing I ever imagined I’d do.
I cry, but there are no tears.
I scream, but there are no words.
I scratch, but barely remove the surface of this thickly veiled remorse that jabs at me with strong, powerful strokes.
Tonight, I sit in bed again.
Like a thousand nights before.
Thinking of the next thousand.
Hoping to not know what they bring.

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