when thick darkness envelops the sky
i wait with my tired eyes and measured breath
for that sweet, fleeting illusion of peace and death
i long for my brain to go all
foggy and fuzzy and
dizzy and woozy
but
sleep eludes me like a scorned lover
and my eyes just won't shut, won't listen
they show me those disembodied shadows
lurking behind the curtains
ready to throttle me
and take my soul along
to the raging fires of hell
and
i burn
i suffer
i surrender
i die
and then
i become the undead
haunting my very own earth
in search of love and peace
for eternity
Aren't we all always a little dead inside?
What's the point of living and hurting everyone when, someday, we all are going to die?
