I wake up
every morning
I sleep
every night
just a cycle
of days, months, years
caught up in the cycle
of life, of death and in between
I have no dream
just a shell
of skin, of bone and blood
I'm empty
eventually I will be full
in months, in years, in decades
maybe I will never
eventually I will be full
of false images, unrealistic hope, unreachable goals
non of which I will reach
because I there's nothing
in my head, my dreams not even nightmares
nothing, just survival
when you're caught up in a cycle
where
I wake up
every morning
I sleep
every night