3am
One stolen moment at 3am, You lead me away Down an alley. Up against a wall, Your lips meet mine.
I hate bios, I never know what to write
One stolen moment at 3am, You lead me away Down an alley. Up against a wall, Your lips meet mine.
As I stand My world spins Around me. Colours blur. Once again I'm dizzy. It's unreal, A whirlwind of Confusion. Just can't place Where I am, How I feel.
'No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone' - Blinding, Florence and the Machine.
Her only friend Was sleep. Welcoming her With open arms. An escape From her thoughts. She loves it, Perhaps too much. Her sleep Puts an end To her facade.
What is this hollow existence. This empty feeling. I am nothing but a vessel, No substance, no soul Numb..
The edge of the blade catches the light As you pick it up, Deliberate, Decided. Cool metal touches the surface. Your head is pounding, It's deafening. Thud, thud. The keen weapon caresses your skin.
Even alone, I have company. My old friend has returned, Filling the void with nothing. I saw him approaching, And welcomed him with arms outstretched. It had been a while.
Let's take a walk Down memory lane, Lined with berries, Bursting with colour. But be warned, They're bittersweet. Pleasant at first, They leave a taste, Of moments out of reach, Like fat salty tears.