In the mind lies a field
Where dreams and wishes walk to their death
Where sensation and emotion inhale their last breath
And as demons play with shovels and dirt, all these thoughts are sealed

                                                                                      In your eyes there is light
                                               That has nay flicker, for it only glimmers bright
                   The sun that provides warmth for the poor citizens of my mind
                                                          Is trapped in irises of aqua tints, confined

                                            Meet me in the middle
                        Somewhere between mania and depression
                     Let your medicinal tongue solve this sad riddle
             For I can't look at another calendar and ponder this question

             *Will tomorrow be the day that the sun rises without me?