I lay in bed
in the cold hours of the morning
nobody's listening
it's 3 am
they're all asleep
off in dreamland they be
thinking of pleasant things
while I just want to scream
I don't understand myself
my head is coming undone
or maybe it was never fully on.
I stare at my hands
nails jagged and worn
skin cracked and dry
when I could have sworn
they weren't like that before
but then I think
wait, when was the last time I looked
I tiny little voice in the back of my mind
my conscience screaming at me
telling me-
oh.
the last time I looked was about a month ago.
I'm falling into disrepair
my shoulders sore
and over there
on the chair
is my empty glass
I just can't get up to refill
plus when it's empty it's harder to spill.
I don't know why I'm letting this happen
I'm just standing by
I'm being held captive
by my own issues
soon enough my hair will be greasy as snape's
my eyes will be empty my mind will be blank
and it's getting quite dank
in this little cave of my bedroom
I need to escape I run
out the door
down the stairs
but I'm somehow back in my room
my mind rushes to find an explanation
but then I'm falling through
falling through a trapdoor down
down I go
where?
I don't know.
I wake up
drenched in cold sweat
my mind still reeling
from these odd events
I look around my tidy room
and see nothing out of place
no dirty glasses
no candy wrappers
everything put away
I reach up to rub my face
and my hands are back to normal
I look at them
happily taking in
the sight of normal nails and normal skin
I look at the clock
on my bedside table
3 am it says
well
back to bed.
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