How dreary it feels, knowing you sit alone in a room
where the blinds stow away the reality outside the pane.
There you sit, behind an LCD screen, typing your wildest fallacies.
Then the shadows beckon to close eyes; a dreamful feign.

You resist, desperate to form a connection to someone,
but met with, "You have reached the voicemail box of.."
No texts. No callbacks. Facebook ending with just "seen".
All alone, retreating to the innermost melancholic thoughts above.

Hours turn into days and days turn to weeks.
You plot your escape route with no strings attached.
You're scared, but hold steady with an iron facade,
wistful, that a final solution has thus been hatched.

In those final minutes, when the white candies hit,
and there's no turning back to being alive and sober,
you shudder and slowly close the bloodied eyes,
knowing that the last battle, is finally over.