Countdown until keeping wide bright eyes shut is preferred,
Headaches mount with saddles secured with spikes underneath grinding teeth tightening fists,
Twelve hours of sleep calling as injuries sing louder in a soulful chorus uncertain hymns,
Be thankful for what you have, for anything or person entrusted to you.
Blood on my pillow as time, reminder I’m dying yeah I’m gonna die, this isn’t to scare, it’s a gift to focus on every breath.
Emotion Dough 
What are you thinking about after reading this?