Night

Each day my family thinks I go to sleep when they want, But little do they know I stay up all night thinking. Thinking of how many ways I could run away. Hop on a train, And all my troubles would fade away. But I think I would too, And that would mean all those nights laying awake and fighting would mean nothing anymore. These poems would mean nothing anymore. So what do I do? I stay, And I pray that one day, Or even night, I don't fade. I pray I stay because even though I want to go, I want to stay. And every night death sits beside my bed, He isn't ominous or scary like you might think, She is like a mother. She calmly waits sometimes till you fall asleep from the weight of the day, Or by taking her hand. Something she never wants.