I used to be so, so tired.
The kind of exhaustion sleep
Couldn't, wouldn't fix.
I used to close my eyes
And not mind if they never opened.
Idle dreamers are a dime a dozen
And a purposeless existence
Breeds nothing but death
And empty pages
That could have been filled
Which is another death
A little death
But still death, all the same.
But now...and I don't know how...
My penstrokes have become my breaths.
The clicks of typing, my pulse.
The rustle of paper, the signal between nerves.
My music is my adrenaline rush
And I search for people who feel the same
As all wild, chained things
Search for other children born of freedom.
Sleep and I will never love one another
But I am no longer tired
Despite the darkness beneath my eyes,
The smile twisted onto my lips
The lies I tell to my family
To guard my weakest flanks.
YOU ARE READING
As I Stared At the Stars, One Winked Back. (Liz's Journal)
RandomPlease, if you're reading this... First of all, why??? Secondly, I apologize for any emotional/mental/mystical trauma Thirdly, NO JUDGING!!!! Let's go adventuring into my realm, shall we? Or you could turn back now....
