Read this in creative writing (untitled)

Tired eyes, too fearful to sleep.
A swollen heart anchors down,
a heavy weight.
Fluttering eyelids droop, as stars release themselves
to the skies. Atleast they have somewhere to belong,
unlike I.
A lone soul in the world tonight, drowning under
five feet, six inches in nostalgia, a song so deep.
Bones rendered to the floor, too hard to fight
life anymore, half past 8:oo A.M.
I'd crawl my way half across the world if  I
could only recognize my own feet again.
I'd sleep anywhere, in a boat, if only I could get
away from home and I'd stay afloat.
I'd fight in life's sick games, me against the devil, bare-handed, one tied behind my back.
All I've known is to follow pavements
until I'm far enough away from my beleaguer
demonds and I will never find out what makes even them stick with me,
usually no one attracts.
Where are you on this restless night?
You'd told me you'd stay.
No matter how many hours I stay up,
no matter how many hours I sleep, I guess
I'll never be able to make things right.
So I'm going to go now, walk out by the bay.
Even what most call paradise
couldn't keep my frights away.
As I approach the sea, something haunts me.
Chilled to the bone, goosebumps make their homes
on my arms.
I nurse a headache, all of the world's pain on my shoulders. If only I was brave.
End things. Another unfinished thought.
I find myself laying in the sand.
I make a blanket of my worries, a pillow of the atmosphere,
count all of the stars, I wish I can. Most nights, I break into a cold sweat, I scream.
Make myself some hot chocolate milk but not
even that helps because the presence of my dreams
still haunts me.
So many voices echo in my head, calling my name.
I never recognize one of them and insomnia is the result of the everlasting bitterness
of my pain.
I've filled books with empty memories, I've burried myself beneath papers, or I'm quite
sure I have.
The dilemma is usually if I sleep, when I awake, I remember only a single thing.
There's someone out there who once belonger to me, even if I can't remember my own or their name.
So I sit and stare at the mirror and try to figure out who I am.
Everyday I restart over and I know something must have traumatized me to the point of memory loss,
All I know is I'm somewhere in the world, burried in a beach
and I'm some kind of, for whatever reason, worry-filled girl.