I sleep but get no rest—my mind a tomb,
Where echoed screams refuse to let me be.
Dark thoughts like smoke infest the silent room,
And chain my soul to what it cannot see.
A thousand voices claw inside my head,
Constantly reminding hope is folly.
They lead down darkened paths where light has fled,
To crown me with thorns of melancholy.
I close my eyes, but never find the peace,
No dream can reach me through this choking mire.
Each heartbeat a prayer for sweet release,
Each breath, a spark within a dying fire.
If this be sleep, then God, what waits in death—
When even rest denies my soul its breath?
Hayden Coombs 