I lay on the cold wooden floor,
My bones are tired and weak
I stare at the chipping beige paint on the wall
And I try to recall, memories quietly bleak.
Recollections of restless nights
Dreams that had gone astray
Nightmares, monsters, demons, and death
Avoiding sleeping at all, to keep the visions at bay
The nights that I didn't dream
Are the ones I hate the most
Suffocating on the black vastness that is nothing,
When I wake, the lack of oxygen follows me, like a ghost.
I'm tired, and sick, and fading
My emotions rub me raw and thin
My tears leave a permanent streak on my face
And I hear the sarcastic world's smallest Violin.
"She's being a drama queen,
find the royalty her crown."
"Leave her to wallow"
"Leave her to drown."
It's past the mockery,
It's past the scorn.
Nothing matters anymore
Neither the rose nor the thorn.
I have no resolve,
I don't care enough to lie
The best I can do is live the rest, and then:
... lay down to die.
