I'M Going To Bed, Said Mr Bell

I didn't sleep well. Matter of fact, I never do. Sleepless nights, week after week. Early morning, yearning, for something to improve my state of being. A being, which seems to me as more of a prison, than a life. It never gets better. Rooms filled with people, eager to learn, but yet I'm just; So, so, tired. Walking instead of sleeping. People passing my pale cheeks without a notice. I'm invisible. Like a ghost among men, never to be acknowledged. Growing weary of it all. This life of mine is more like a slow walk towards the coffin. A walk towards the land of six-feet-under. And I'm tired. Oh, so tired.