Blue Light

Every night I force myself to stay awake I stare at a screen until the effect of exhaustion temporarily wears off I pry my eyelids open I yank at my hair I press my back against the cool wall that lies adjacent to my bed I do whatever I can to stay awake Not for no purpose, of course Pain is a small price to pay in consideration of what it is I’m paying for What I’m receiving is far more valuable than what I’m giving My temporary sacrifice of comfort could be held permanent for all I care But I need not give more than I must What I’m receiving will bring me wealth but not in coin What I’m receiving will not bring me joy but bring me something far more valuable What I’m receiving will calm my racing mind Will halt my thoughts if only so temporarily It will bring me to reason with the thoughts that have been ever so stowed away It will serve as a key to the many things that I have long locked up It will bring me closer Closer to a boy that I love in a way that will never be understood by his hurting mind or by his magical ability to yield a pen It will make me a poet A poet that longs to be heard by the suffering people of a suffering world It will bring me language Language so powerful that I can leave behind something that will be remembered if only by one person in a sea of children Children who will never be able to understand true pain Or children who could not utter the words of a life of agony that many will never know The reason that I wake up every morning with sore red eyes or yawning wider than my endless but yet so limited sea of thoughts Is to write