Insomniac.

Insomniac.
Out of wack
She teeters on the edge of a deep abyss
It’s not this she’ll miss
Hours exchanged for each other
without choice
The voice.
goes on and on,
spinning in circles,
worthless
Tiring out possibilities unborn and unseen
in between the light and the dark
where it hasn’t ended
yet hasn’t quite had a start
And it’s black.

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