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I Hate Nights

I Hate Nights

As the evening winds down,
the chores are done,
the computer is off,
the phone calls have ended.

I feel the depression closing in,
feel the oppression of my scattered thoughts,
feel the confusion of unexplained dreams,
feel the loneliness of being a single mother.

I hear my tears as they hit the pillow,
hear my thoughts as though a group of angry bees are buzzing in my head,
hear my labored breathing as the panic attack ensues,
hear the rustle of sheets as I struggle to hide my head in shame.

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