The ceiling is talking to me and its getting personal.
And I'm not sure if I wanna get this close to something
that's above me and holding me in.
Tomorrow has already gone by,
but I am not quite there yet,
when yesterday is still fogging up the clock,
I wonder why I am somewhere in the middle of a place
I can't seem to wash off.
The ceiling's crying now,
I can't seem to get anything straight
something about the chipped paint and where I punched a hole in the wall
and the words I stapled with the glow in dark stars above my head.
I can't remember where I put my feet and why I can't see the stars.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 9:57 PM UTC
The ceiling is talking to me and its getting personal.
And I'm not sure if I wanna get this close to something
that's above me and holding me in.
Tomorrow has already gone by,
but I am not quite there yet,
when yesterday is still fogging up the clock,
I wonder why I am somewhere in the middle of a place
I can't seem to wash off.
The ceiling's crying now,
I can't seem to get anything straight
something about the chipped paint and where I punched a hole in the wall
and the words I stapled with the glow in dark stars above my head.
I can't remember where I put my feet and why I can't see the stars.
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Soulfulbubbles/998133/
