Looking at my ceiling, the clock ticks slowly. I look through my window and I fall out my pale bedroom, going to places in my past, dreams that are far cast. Everything seems to go forward, clocking life ahead of time. But the past gives me my tears, influencing my years, bringing on my fears. I think about my life, and begin to run. I'm suddenly seeing all my past problems, the present enemies. It's not my past I'm running away from, not my present I hide from, but the future I'm looking forward to. I run past my enemies, down this hall of memories and take a deep breath, before the deadly dreams take me away. The soft, gentle melody of sleep takes me, and the cycle continues.