Sighing Myself to Sleep
by Jourdan E. Cameron
Nightly as I lay down to rest,
I sigh aloud in my bed,
cutting inside my head,
left half dead.
Somewhere knowing rest will come,
truly wish it never leaves,
to lay forever numb,
to leave this world and its griefs.
There alone and lying cold,
I try recall something of value,
something a friend once told,
I ask myself what it was that she told you,
just as I feel the chill envelop me,
sleep itself begins to conquer,
and I recall.
Commanded to fail to release,
retain my grip,
holding on up until dawn,
through the dark cold night clinging fast,
the harsh times will soon have passed.
The sun is completely forgotten before its rise,
before dawn comes darkest night.
Dawn may be far from what I surmise,
and it is likely a while before the earth is bathed in glorious light.
Until the day grows bright, retain your fight,
fight for light,
do not take to flight,
you shan't lose might.
Soon will end this night.
Salvation is not yet in sight,
it is in your fight.
Thus is her advice, and this is what I shall do.
I inhale once more and find myself given to abderianism;
my sudden laughter bouncing sharp across the walls of my cell,
my lonely place, my solitary hell,
I'll break free.
With one mad tale to tell.
Laughter returns to sighs,
mirth to tears,
hope to fears.
And I throw it all away as I await my release day.
Calling back up the words of a friend,
"We all go through things like that".
Suddenly the world is new.
Against the laws of logic I bang on my walls,
and clearly enough returns a bang clear as dew.
I strike an epiphany;
I'm yet another lonesome consciousness,
full of eosophilia,
waiting for the dawn to come,
knowing it to mean one less:
one less pain and one less sorrow,
one less burden and one less weight,
understanding the consequences to be great,
realizing what rides the back of tomorrow.
I will be here for it.
I'd like to thank a certain E.B.W. for making this poem possible, as well as the makers of the following videos for keeping it from dying as a concept:
Eosophilia means love of the dawn, and abderianism relates to insane laughter.