Awake

When the night is upon us

and she has gone to sleep,

My troubles often creep.

Security, drama, finances;

It all seems so impossible.

I’ve done it before. Have I not?

Or was I just lucky with my advances,

Cocky with naivety.

My willingness to ‘do it myself.’

No one has ever

filled with more piety.

Awake in my bed,

with you at my side,

I must make it work.

A single bill is paid

with such underwhelming results.

Less than a weeks worth of food remained.

Should work, could work, MUST work.

Awake in my bed,

No sense has come of it.

It’s more this month than last,

Can’t I pay what I paid in the past?

Am I wrong? Did I do something

to become such a penniless outcast?

Awake in my bed,

My brain will deeply ponder.

Am I worthy of existence

if I can not contribute more

to the world out yonder?

Awake in my bed, I was nine.

Dreaming of becoming a writer.

Tying shoelaces, hopscotch races,

life was easy.

Awake in my bed, now twenty-five.

Loans from friends, credit card debts.

Myriads of outstanding emotions.

I feel…depressed.

Contemplating my failures.

Am I flawed for my expenses?

Awake in my bed, twenty-five and some.

NO! I am not a number.

Do I not feel?

I am not a statistic.

No algorithm could ever accurately measure me.

Am I not human?

I bleed and cry and fight and work.

Damn your arithmetic!

Awake in my bed, somewhere in the future.

I will lie in my bed, dying and afraid.

Hands in my lap,

where her crying head will hopefully be laid.

I will not forget the life I will have lived.

I will not be a simple number.

I will make it work.