Some Thoughts on a Cold Night

Staring at the ceiling
Singing blues
Painting hues
On my mind’s ceiling

I’m only sixteen
Do I know what that means?
Am I an angel ready to fly
Or an angel ready to die?

Stay afloat, they say
Weary eyed, I stare
I was drowning, I say
Incredulous, they stare

Daydreaming
Nightwishing
I was free
It’s too cold inside

Wasting away
Walls built, crumbling
Facing away
Feeling, feeling, numbing