Blood Shot Eyes

I wasn’t always this tired, you know.
My eyes were once free, white, pure.
The years crept on and sleep was lost,
Fights and flights and escapes.
Books read too late, hidden beneath sheets and blankets. 
Shame hidden behind doors. 
The blood shot lines in my eyes, 
They’re my scars, they tell stories.
Fear of sleep, fear of people.
So much fear.
Stories of words,
Stories of hope as some of the lines begin to fade.
Life is just beginning, 
Let’s start over.