Your smile creeps off you know,
With no control,
Like you aren't wanting to go,
But there's something unknown,
And with alot of pull,
The voice dismayed with things that haven't happened,
And probably won't,
The slight underwhelming moan,
In a sea of sighs,
You can't try to control,
The glass is normally half full,
But like villains,
only known to the narrator,
Stalks in linens,
And they deploy the daggers,
That don't make any sense,
So you build the fence,
And hope to sleep,
Because when you're up again,
You'll smile at the pen,
know it doesn't make sense,
And that it will happen more,
Just do you're process and apologize,
Saying that there is no control
But realize,
It doesn't matter if it's normal,
It means it will change.