The Battle That Never Ends Poem by Nik Hasif Nik Hasbollah

The bed is a battlefield,
and the war rages inside me.
I lay down,
but the night won't surrender.
Sleep is a soldier I can't capture,
slipping through my fingers
like smoke,
like promises I can't keep.

The clock ticks its march,
each second a reminder
that I'm losing ground.
I fight with my thoughts—
sharp, relentless,
scraping against the walls of my mind,
demanding my attention
while the darkness mocks me.

I've worn down every part of me
just to find a moment of peace,
but the silence is too loud,
the emptiness too deep.
I close my eyes,
but the war continues,
firing shots in my chest,
echoing in my bones.

Every hour is a battle I cannot win,
and every breath feels like a surrender.
I'm too tired to fight,
but too awake to rest.
The night swallows me whole,
and sleep is a distant dream,
just beyond my reach,
always a step too far.

And when morning breaks,
the war doesn't end.
It just waits to begin again.