On Sleepless Nights

Perhaps you are tired of trying
These efforts to perfection.
Fulfilling it is to create such beauty
If these attempts do not prove futille.
Yet how terrifying it is also on this stage you live
Where mistakes are hung out on a clothesline
for everyone to see
and spit upon like dirt,
As if it were such a crime
to be imperfect
As if it were a sin
to be momentarily lost.
Perhaps it so happens you are just tired
Much needed sleep awaits
For when the sun rises tomorrow
We must keep on thriving
Like sunflowers in June.


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