Insomniac

We are all standing single file waiting for our turn to plunge into the deep, dark abyss. 

At night I wonder, how often do two lives end in perfect unison on opposite sides of the world?

How often do parents die in unison with children? 

Who will I be united within that final instant of existence before the light drains from my eyes, and as I immediately cease to be, what other individual loses their identity and all they ever were? 

Whose corpse starts to decay in perfect rhythm with mine?

And as I wonder, I realize why I have restless nights. 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741