An Insomniacs Lullaby

The Warmth

Delicate and fragile, the warmth grows

Inside your heart

It spreads across your face

With grinning lips

But once its broken

There's no replacing it

It's like a broken mirror

Instead you get 18 years of bad luck

How I long for the warm embrace of a hug during a bad day

Or a forehead rub when I'm sick

But instead Im 16

And I've recieved a lifetime of coldness

And deceit

And I've realized

That the warmth is just an imaginary thing.