this is not an AI generated poem.

it’s 2am and i’m still lying awake

with thoughts in one hand and feelings in the other.

how can i go to sleep with a head full of stars

and my face running away

up into the sky

looking for the moon?

i sit and stare out the window

stare out the window at the brown dead grass

the dirty snow melting into muddy slush

the mud that is criss-crossed and destroyed with ruts and tire tracks

my face is a cage

and the doves inside are suffocating

in a pile of their own shit

my arms are broken wings

and their featherless forms are useless