Sound Sleep

This small white oval looks stark on my kitchen table. It delicately sits there promising me so much. Pacifying me with prospects of sound sleep, resulting maybe in a gawping vacant stare and some dripping saliva. I feel cheated somehow. My years of toil, of experience, my scars dissolved by this little white oval. What am I if not the sum of my parts. Broken and strained they may be, but mine none the less. I toil over my toil and remain unresolved.