I thought I would marry him, but I'm not.
I thought they would understand, but they don't.
Im sorry, but I can't live like this any longer.
I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't talk.
All I can do is stare into a daze, seeing something that's not there and thinking of something that was never real.
Worst of all, I dream of things that are really just nightmares.
Impossibilities run through my unrealistic mind night and day,
Fooling me into believing something ridiculous would happen.
How stupid I am, was, and always will be. Until today.
Today i sleep.
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Comments about this poem (Sleep by Amber Carr )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 January 1832 – 14 January 1898)
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