Dissapointment, I'm up again-
wake from the dreams- snuffed out from within.
Back to the day and the same old trends,
awakened and hazed as the cold growth begins.
This is the same story told in a thousand rymthes,
So I would ask you nicely just to save your time.
If it hasn't made a difference yet to express yourself,
to feel so unique but be it known bereft,
Then whats the point of seeking on?
Looking for those who, when you speak- they yawn.
Same old story rewritten in a thousand rymthes,
Same memories looked back on with through the twists of time.

We weren't always so cold, always so damaged;
always left alone- our soul's left famished.
Waiting in the dark, for the one true light;
but, like so many others, it fails at night.
Awake- dissapointment; another dream doth fade
and it's unimportant? Thats what they all say.
I shurg off the days cause it's all bent,
look through my gaze? it's georgous-

Listen to me, not the words you read-
if nothing else sinks through, let this bleed hues.
Ink splattered and lead in pieces, parchments tattered from scrawling thesis-
"Work for a living"- yet behind it's lies, lays the truth of the matter, its solemn disguise.
that while work is ordered fervidly, when it becomes detested
we have the right to reject it.
cuz if not it'll swallow us wholly,
rooted in logic, there'd be no way to console thee.

How can we live when we can't even sleep-
Hours turn to days and those form in weeks,
night after night, ceaslessly incessant,
word after word- and you still don't get it

Life seems ambiguous, one thing fades into another;
no seperating memories which interweaves one with the other?
Make our pasts so dim that a memory is more like a pic
yet the constrasts so shady you don't know what's wrong with it.
So our pasts don't really tell us anything,
cept how we perhaps, just maybe, got so deranged-
how the chaos formed us, more than we thought-
we wished for it all but got more than we ought
now we're sinking in a hazy place-
still tryin' to distinguish face from face
and being awake becomes the real scheme-
just how we spend our time between the now rued dreams...

Have you ever been so dissapointed after waking up?
Ever been so tired you just wanna give up?
Ever been so down you can't see the flowers bloom?
Have you ever been so sick, of just being you?...

Your not alone.