Perception of the Insomniac Mind

 The moon reminds me 

Of how in the darkest of times

We are truly alone. 

The stars veil the night sky, twinkling 

Almost touching the skyscrapers 

In a distant concrete jungle. 

The leaves rustle in whispers. 

The owl hoots often, 

One by one, the fireflies light up 

And arrive at my window. 

My words scribble on paper. 

My thoughts were disoriented

In a state of numbness 

Sometimes I cry over a song, 

Over stories of the past 

What we could be and never were. 

Sometimes I overthink 

Every conversation plays in a loop 

The punctuation and emojis overanalysed.

© Suranya.


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