deepundergroundpoetry.com
My Dreams Woke Me Up So I Could Write This...
Maybe there really is just something wrong with me,
that I feel so
absolutely,
terribly
lonely
in this
giant
empty
bed,
in this
giant
empty
room,
with these
giant
empty
dreams,
Stirring me from my cold empty sleep
Like a cheap ceramic mug of cold coffee;
chipped and jagged along the edges,
Lying curled up in this sad little ball of
giant
empty
loneliness.
My mind can't wrap around the reasons why
So many people tell me that I am fine
When this keeps happening
Again and again,
Almost every single night:
A cold empty heart and a screaming mind
Blindly trying to find a way out
As I reach out into the dark for you.
Night after
Cold
Empty
Night.
Maybe there really is just something wrong with me.
that I feel so
absolutely,
terribly
lonely
in this
giant
empty
bed,
in this
giant
empty
room,
with these
giant
empty
dreams,
Stirring me from my cold empty sleep
Like a cheap ceramic mug of cold coffee;
chipped and jagged along the edges,
Lying curled up in this sad little ball of
giant
empty
loneliness.
My mind can't wrap around the reasons why
So many people tell me that I am fine
When this keeps happening
Again and again,
Almost every single night:
A cold empty heart and a screaming mind
Blindly trying to find a way out
As I reach out into the dark for you.
Night after
Cold
Empty
Night.
Maybe there really is just something wrong with me.
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