• unclear 4w

    oh when i sleep, pardon when i lay down,
    i stare at the ceiling,
    it feels like my pillow is grabbing my head,
    my head hurts, sensing that,
    it's soaking my sanity and deserting my thinking,
    i rest my hands on the side, then the breeze lands em on my stomach,
    when entwined it seems they transmit my weak energy amongst em,
    and when separated the energy overweighs the other,
    but does it matter?
    shivers of regret on my knees cross the bridge of disownment,
    and on reaching my feet they beckon the toes to lower their guard but as always they refuse,
    instantly freezing em,
    the ceiling gives me space to imagine,
    to wonder,
    to play with shimmering chandeliers,
    to look blankly at the sky without a thought entering or exiting my head,
    to boil my rage down to a tiny sparkle,
    it portrays my scene with "happiness", though the star and the main character exits halfway through,
    then my mind drifts back to myself,
    where i'm pretending to like everything and everyone,
    surely which is an illusion to be able to live in this world,
    my ears echo the sound of despair and disappointment,
    so i close my eyes again as a form of escapism,
    the sight of my ceiling fading away,
    like i'm saying goodbye to my second memory,
    till we meet again at night.

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