You find yourself losing sleep.
It’s like you can’t hear the quiet,
Only the voices of your demons.
You lay in bed, wide awake.
With a wetness in your eyes,
But dryness in your soul.
You just want to stay in the dark.
Too afraid of what was,
What is, and what could be.
You realise you’ve fucked up,
And it’s too late to fix things.
It’s just… too late.
— J.M. (2017)