Weak from the days.
Pretend smiles and useless chatter.
I'm over the masquerade, taking off the mask.
Three weeks til freedom and I'm counting the seconds.
It's when I can be alone at last.
I'll sit through the day, begging for the sun to come down
when I can sleep.
If I were so lucky.
Insomnia: my punishment.
I don't even deserve my dreams.