Once I sleep, almost rest, I hold my eyes shut Steadfast. My REM seems so fake. For i'm dreaming while I wake. The next you'll see me is left to fate, High chances it'll be my wake. The ceiling always looses feeling, stars are bright, Curtains drawn, strings lost from my grip. No longer having sight of the dying light, The orange tinge along the street. It takes a while for time to pass lost feeling of fresh air and grass lost knowledge of our ecliptics.
it's not hollow like they say. But heavy where I lay. I cannot move. I cannot breathe. I must stay, not leave.
itís not hollow but weighs a ton I lay here till itís done I cannot see And again, I cannot breathe So, I wait, and grind my teeth, Patiently still, to take my leave.
itís not like a gun, Bang Boom then itís done, but a melon baller scraping pressing at my core Like someone knocking down my door. Full force, heavy not hollow For a long, moment, But after the movement its empty, ...