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The whirl of the fan hums
quietly by my ear.
My eyes glued to the ceiling,
the faces of those I have spoken to
during the day flash past me
and I start to feel dizzy.
My existence feels worn out,
lost and forgotten
in the depths of my mind.
The whirl becomes deafening
silence and my mind races
faster than before.
Tossing and turning
feels like a fight nowadays,
blankets on the floor and
a pillow over my face.
The sun peaks over
the trees and my heart
aches for more rest.
Sleep escapes me
constantly now.
The ghost of rest haunts
me
forever.
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About the Creator
Becca Mahar
Poetry is my passion. I tend to spill my heart out in my writing, so if you enjoy compelling emotional poems, my page is for you. I'm a neverending abyss of emotions.
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