“Sleepless in Plymouth”

This poem came to life eight years ago when I was 22 years old. Many different medications have been given to me over the years to help me fall asleep. (The wheels in my brain just won’t stop turning as I constantly think of the next task to tackle. Always wanting to start my next project, coupled with my impatience to check things off my to-do list as soon as possible, catching Z’s eludes me.)

Against sleep, Melatonin did not help me fight,

Rather, it diminished my appetite.

 

I’ll discontinue use of the drug in haste,

In my mouth, it leaves a horrid, rancid taste.

 

Instead of catching Z’s, I’m up early on this winter Saturday,

Before there is even just one bright sun ray.

 

As for Melatonin, I’ve given up hope,

Will I try it ever again to sleep? NOPE. 

THE END

 

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