Sleepy Dream Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Withering beneath a blanket of aging thoughts,
crying silently with yesterday's memories,
attempting to continue going on alone.

Whichever days come along, it's always the
same, having to deal with each one anyhow.

Better days are coming, or so I've been told.

There are really none, as I face reality's
slap in the face, sleepily dreaming of what
I used to do daily.

Now weakly sitting, waiting for knowledge to
stir my neurons so I can remember from one
moment to another.

Yet, that time never comes, never shows it's
face again, as I lay back upon my pillow once
more.