Every day, they hand me twenty-four
hours,
Then they–different they–come and
take about twelve away,
and I write to get away from the rest
of it.
I have no relevant role models or
experience
For that way to live,
So I start every day as a
sleep-deprived wreck,
Lose a fight with microsleep every time
I'm at rest,
and try to make up for it by asking
unclear questions
and interrupting whoever's nice enough
to answer them.
TL;DR: I think I have something to
say.
I know I couldn't tell you what it is.
Yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment