Half past ten,
About time to wake up from nightmares
of dreaming. I sense
the sea of people running little mazes,
shoving and sprinting to get ahead.
But everyones a blur of colors and shapes,
Behind my anomalous lens.
where others dissolve in a fog.
It was days like these where he was exhausted. Tuesday around dusk, he found himself sprawled over his desk in a comatose, lost with a feeling of solid unfulfillment and worthlessness. Sometimes, he would put his pencil to the yellowed, decrepit paper and write a word or two. Todays accomplishment, ...
Frozen where I stand,
Lost as nothing but a hollow of a man.
So lift me up,
Gentle as you can,
Sail me away with the wind.
I’ll get where I want,
I’ll get where I want.
I created myself,
And grounded myself,
And folded myself,
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