Hello steemian's

** Today i share a poetry among you**

I'm not all rights

sometimes I get tired...
I down and can get up
Despite looking up from the floor knowing I gotta move

but I can't move
I listen to my breathing, it's labored, rough and slow

Languidly shuffling into silence and dispute the voice in my head.

laughing at me, crying and touching me breathing me

For having fallen into the floor Its the little things
Its the little things
That break me
That choke me into silence
The l ittle things
keep me company there on the floor
when nothing is else ca n get through
when no one can see me
when I am utterly
When i am equivocally
The little things picking at my brain
And I can never help myself Sometimes I get tired...
And I can sleep

As if sleep is the enemy and I will not face
I cannot

Because what if i dream....