Insomnia, you are my bitch lover,
that has seen me through 24 years of life.
Not sure if life gets in the way, or
mankind just made living hectic.
My organizational skills are not up to par.
Even my attempt at remembering
has turned into scribbles of chaos
in my handwriting inside my day planner.
Truly trying to juggle the responsibilities of being a mom,
pretending to be an adult, though according to some i’m not.
Which I am quick to laugh because I can’t make this shit up.
I glimpse lightly over my day at night.
Thoughts weave in and out of each other,
racing through my mind.
Today was good though I tell myself.
I am a slightly bipolar chic, anxiety disorder,
obsessive compulsive disorder, and insomnia.
I managed to get things done,
I made it through the Wal-Mart check out line
without being bluntly rude to the well deserving stranger.
Didn’t leave my buggy in the aisle to run for fresh air.
Managed not to murder anyone.
Relaxing in the moment that all is as should be.
Finally, sleep burns my eyes.
Oh, hated clock of time, time that I disregard,
how ironic you should read 4:25 a.m.
when my day begins in an hour and a half,
yet yesterday has not stopped for me.
I owe this hectic poem to Trifecta prompt, using the word Juggle and to a wonderful prompt blog, Woven Dreams Prompt, with the word being weave.