at 12:24

My brain and my body
are arguing like my parents
did when I was younger.

It's midnight. I must
wake up early, so I have
time to gather my belongings
in my backpack, make it to the
meeting, but more importantly,
find time to edit these poems.

I could sleep
if I laid down
right now. The
problem is that
I am at war.

My scars
are red, and
out of the corner
of my eye, it looks
like they are still bleeding.

I'm scared
that they
are mocking
me when I am
not looking.

My body
is silently
screaming.

I feel
everything.
The hands, the kicking,
the climbing, the falling,
the diving, the striving.

Everything
inside of me
wants something
different.

I don't understand who
or what
I am.