tired eyes,
drooping eyelids,
the ceiling is a old picture to be seen,
the paint is dull,
the stars dim,
the paintings crumble,
in this old room i lay,
my eyes open,
sleep is out of reach,
yet for a moment when the clock strikes 3:00 am,
i see something out of the corner of my eye,
a sharp point end,
a arrow's end,
red bumpy skin,
i think i forgot,
my clock is three hours behide,
so isn't it twelve?
the devil's hour?
then why do i feel like i'm the devil here?
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 1:55 AM UTC
tired eyes,
drooping eyelids,
the ceiling is a old picture to be seen,
the paint is dull,
the stars dim,
the paintings crumble,
in this old room i lay,
my eyes open,
sleep is out of reach,
yet for a moment when the clock strikes 3:00 am,
i see something out of the corner of my eye,
a sharp point end,
a arrow's end,
red bumpy skin,
i think i forgot,
my clock is three hours behide,
so isn't it twelve?
the devil's hour?
then why do i feel like i'm the devil here?
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