Scrittura
Published in

Scrittura

13 February 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: insomnia

Minute

A Poem

The hueing numbers on the clock whisper in uncontained fervor,
Yet the moon and the sky move no further;

The tremors of the grass swept bed have left me in a rhapsody,
Now the folding of the pillow beckons me behind bloodcurdling agony.

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