3:05

Weary eyes refuse to close for long. The sweet sleep that I used to know so well has left and refuses to return. I toss and turn as the inky dark of the room threatens to swallow me whole. I reach out from the safety of my warm blanket to grab my phone. The white light of the screen rips through the velvet night as the clock reads 3:05. I need to sleep. Instead, I let my thumps graze over letters in a keyboard. Each letter joins to create a word and each word a sentence. Soon, I have a piece of writing about my inability to fall asleep. Maybe now my eyes can give into the pleas of rest. 

e.r.b

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