Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Tools of My Destruction

Tools of my destruction
Cause a cease of function
Watch the world burn
At the wrong junction

Seeds of pain
Make me stay in my lane
Gotta keep moving
Just to stay sane

The whole world is watching
Million jaws dropping
Hear the sound of the clock Tick-Tocking

Quick to spread my wings and fly away
But flight won't co-operate today

Dropping like a ton
Always jump the gun
Say goodbye to the prodigal son

One wish for me
Is that I could be
Back at the beginning
It would be plain to see
Mistakes that I had made
Things that were forbade
All I ask
To be redeemed and forgave
Too much I guess
Look at what a mess
This is the result of accumulative stress

Guess for now I'll just be falling
Looks like no more time for stalling
Looking toward a rock bottom reality
Close my eyes
Hope to avoid a fatality

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