Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

Tears of an insomniac

I cry through stinging eyes as I recount the days of life.
Blood shot,
And full of things that expand my head, my heart…
I sniff back the tears that are as cold as ice,
I sat myself here and I will not allow the self pity start.

Deal with the consequences you are the cause of them,
I say,
You said you want to be free of men,
But he, he wasn’t just a man. To you he was more than that.

I pour fourth this monologue night after night,
Releasing tears, tears of an insomniac.

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