deepundergroundpoetry.com
Am I awake still?
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.
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.
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