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, April 15, 2012

The Lucky Few

The most
The best
Brighter than the rest
Great expectations
Burdened with the stress

Glorified and praised
Revered and raised
Above all others
Presented and displayed

Cracked and broken
The privileged token
Too good to be true
The price to be paid is now due

Positioned for demise
Souls screaming through the eyes
Gives rise to troubled thoughts
Advised against by the wise

Pay attention to their misery
They're all ticking time bombs
Take their threats seriously
Before they are all long gone

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