It's 58 past 11 and i'm just here so quiet,
Thinking of the past precious moments and riots.
I wonder if anyone were to think of me at this time,
But i realize that i don't have the kind of life to have those things just slip my mind.
Six minutes go as the silent clock keeps ticking-
As i pass through the thoughts of my life that i keep repeating over again within myself
to live up to something.
Yet once i run out of such memories, i'm only left with dry tears of me now becoming
empty-yet again-there's no one out there to save me-like always.
I begin to feel weary of so much thinking-now that my close ones are gone, what is
left of me?
And my depression returns to dominate my heart and soul-then i change completely-
Back to the way i was before.
Now i close myself into the person with the hard shell from outside-
And i don't know anymore of what i still am inside....
No one knows-
And they're now farther away from the start of where they're at to barely begin their
journey of discovering the depth within me.
Yet now, i'm still the same-alone, wondering
When i might have someone to barely remember me...
