How can he sleep at night? He must not know— He must think I’m doing well That it’s well with my soul. But does he know? Does he know the countless hours Of sleep I’ve been deprived of? Having to struggle under the covers, With my eyes sown shut— Just to wait for sleep to find me, Sometimes hours and hours later? All the time retracing memories and nightmares, Like a bad cd, repeating an awful clip. Does he know the meals I’ve missed? With an aching stomach, longing to be fed, But as soon as it’s in my sight, My stomach closes off and my throat shuts. Does he know the gallons of tears that have left my eyes, Within the last month and a half? Does he know how many tubs I could have filled With my anguish? How can he sleep at night, If he knows that he has ruined my life- After telling me of the respect he had for us? How can he live with himself, Knowing that because of his impulse, A “friend” who shared his stage— Has experienced the most excruciating pain E