My head is all muddled up with fears from the past.
Screams that in silence burn.
Hold steadfast to dreams
You, its creator
Days of no sleep seem monochrome and tasteless. An aftertaste that refuses to go away.
A pulverizing sadness, A madness that spreads, A plastic smile.
The failure that preaches to the empty and soulless. The torn and the poor, The
You were privileged and accepted While everyone’s back turned against me You had warmth and
These meaningless thoughts won’t stop running through my head, keeping my eyelids peeled back from
One day I’m spinning in ecstasy And the next, I’m drowning in self-induced criticism and
I dreamt there was a mirror And it reflected everything that was reality. Except for