Insomnia

This is the result of late night sleepless writing...

this is what happens when i try and write at 1am..

All hope of rest escapes my discontented body,
leaking a drop of my utopia.
My mind composes a symphony of thought,
over a meaningless ‘what if’.
Musing about life
Musing about death
Musing
I am an adventurer.
My mind is my weapon,
My crumpling bedsheets are my shield,
My battle is reality.
I am nervous, losing my strength, losing my opinion,
Losing the battle.
Breath escapes my lips as swiftly as my purpose.
What am i doing?
I am only young.
I am simply naive.
This is only fiction.
I sink into my shield, and my weapon soon becomes rusty.
I am sleeping.

Author's Note

Sorry if there's bad grammar, I was tired.