Restless in my bed,
I lie,
and scream,
as this loneliness, it surrounds me,
silent, serene.
Nevertheless,
screeching,
relenting,
As I give up, out of hope.
I see my thoughts float,
dismembered from my head,
like the frayed end of a rope.
And these walls they circle,
incessantly,
me, wrapped in my shroud,
as vision bleaks out in darkness,
and in my ears,
these sounds crowd.
Sounds,
discomforting,
disengaging,
my brain,
from senses,
from sanity,
from all joy,
from pain.
I scream,
even louder,
and these walls,
they echo back,
as they suffocate me with the air stagnant,
and my frustrations, that they pack.
For everytime,
I fill,
my lungs up,
to live,
My frustrations,
crawl back inside me,
trickle down my blood,
to give;
birth to exasperation,
to distaste,
and to plight,
for making my morns sunless,
and for moonless nights.
I try and see,
through the dark,
to seek,
light,
and happiness,
but this delusion,
goes bleak;
about the chances,
of hope,
of happiness,
of light,
as I shiver,
with the cold,
and spasmate with fright.
Unable to sleep,
I lie awake,
as the ceiling it stares,
right at me in the eye,
with vengeance in mind,
and sorrow to share.
Its sad like me,
but not a tear does it shed,
with emotions frozen,
and feelings dead.
Thus,
I realize,
that this is it,
and I'll lie here,
till the bed becomes my grave.
I'll lie this very way,
and hope to die,
before I begin to decay.
I lie,
and scream,
as this loneliness, it surrounds me,
silent, serene.
Nevertheless,
screeching,
relenting,
As I give up, out of hope.
I see my thoughts float,
dismembered from my head,
like the frayed end of a rope.
And these walls they circle,
incessantly,
me, wrapped in my shroud,
as vision bleaks out in darkness,
and in my ears,
these sounds crowd.
Sounds,
discomforting,
disengaging,
my brain,
from senses,
from sanity,
from all joy,
from pain.
I scream,
even louder,
and these walls,
they echo back,
as they suffocate me with the air stagnant,
and my frustrations, that they pack.
For everytime,
I fill,
my lungs up,
to live,
My frustrations,
crawl back inside me,
trickle down my blood,
to give;
birth to exasperation,
to distaste,
and to plight,
for making my morns sunless,
and for moonless nights.
I try and see,
through the dark,
to seek,
light,
and happiness,
but this delusion,
goes bleak;
about the chances,
of hope,
of happiness,
of light,
as I shiver,
with the cold,
and spasmate with fright.
Unable to sleep,
I lie awake,
as the ceiling it stares,
right at me in the eye,
with vengeance in mind,
and sorrow to share.
Its sad like me,
but not a tear does it shed,
with emotions frozen,
and feelings dead.
Thus,
I realize,
that this is it,
and I'll lie here,
till the bed becomes my grave.
I'll lie this very way,
and hope to die,
before I begin to decay.
