My body is running on fumes
My eyes feel heavy
Everything is sore but
But my mind still races
Racing on in circles
I contemplate all the problems that lay before me
I twist and turn and manipulate them
I consider every angle
But yet i end up with the same answer that i started with
Absolutely Nothing
I start to wonder about everything
Inflicting every wound of self doubt and self loathing i can think of.
I lie in this torture devise i call a bed while my mind turns on it self
I can not wait the sweet release of sleep
So that i can escape my army of ghosts
Dreams Sweet Dreams