It never is fun,
Even though looks like it,
I lay awake disturbed,
Even the worst of nightmares doesn't like me,
Always the insomniac,
But not a cause for sympathy,
I find something to keep me busy,
But even counting sheep makes me dizzy,
It's just about the worst nightmare you could wake up in,
You get to see your life flashing,
And yet there's nothing good in it,
It's like you make your death bed and then lay in it,
You wish you had a choice but you don't,
And life uses this like it's vault,
It locks you in tight,
And manifests its might,
Brings back up all the nasty memories you so dear want to forget,
And put them on reply,
Right then a tear trickles down,
'Why could this be happening to me?'
You may ask,
'Does this happen to anyone else?'
'Can the world relate to it?'
Because deep inside this pain there lies a former soul,
Deep inside this abyss, there once was a heart,
Deep inside this darkness, there once was a spark,
One bright enough to make a room happy,
But now the darkness is made manifest in the flesh,
And it has become almost contagious,
Confined in a solitary state and very lonely,
When asked you say, 'it's solitude,'
You know that's a lie,
So plain it deserves to be a white lie,
But the darkness within overshadows the light without,
The loneliness walks in at a steady pace as if to say, 'nice to meet you',
Really, what choice do you have?
At least one item is nice to meet you,
The least you could do is welcome it with three hands,
The phrase 'break a leg' to you literal has become,
You seem to have your broken by those you trust and think you love,
After all this you wish not see anyone,
You wish the world could do you a favor and end,
But, you realize it's 02.52 and another day is fast approaching,
You'll have to pretend to be happy all over again,
You'll have to make believe,
And yet all this goes through your head,
As part of the pangs of being up past 02.32.
