As I lay me down to sleep,
My heart, worn and haggard.
The thoughts brewing, beginning to steep,
Leaving my mind beaten and battered.
Sadness, guilt, despair and rage,
Is this a part of coming of age?
Am I destined for this pain?
To be labeled as crazy, depressed and insane?
Green scrubs and grippy socks.
Screaming and crying as I take stock.
Of all the emotions that brought me here,
Sadness, anger, guilt and fear.
My own, custom personal hell.
Longing for a wishing well.
One that takes the pain away,
And not feel as though it's here to stay
To be at peace, lungs empty of air
6 feet under, with auburn hair,
I greet Death like a beloved friend,
For finally bringing us together again.
~SJ~