I do not sleep in a rose-painted bed
With doves above my crown
I’ve got sorrow lying around
Like pillows drifting below

I do not sleep in a rose-painted bed
Where dreams assemble and grow
The visions of yesteryear
Left me somewhere dead

© Delia Ross. 2023 / @poeeternal

Postscript: Free speech below

What does it mean when shadows in your mirror appear?

Yeah, I can’t fucking sleep…

I’ve reached a new level of insanity

Please, not the streets.

There it is again!

Am I dying!?!? 😫

I mean, the poem turned out okay though?

God only made me average but I try and do it so well…

I fuck everything up, that’s a give

I want a rose-painted bed

I want a night of rest…

I want in his arms – I want to be valuable enough to be in the same room with a man – and not want to murder one another or break bonds

I’ve never imprinted

Feeling worthless is the baseline of depression