I weigh myself the number is sixty
Physically fit but actually empty
The battle of everyday is sorrow
The same day others call tomorrow
Thoughts swirl toddling in swell
Drag me into a subconscious hell
Sirens pull my marble feet to bed
My lead cold eyes roll dead intead
Who structured my emotions?
Who stole my exciting oceans?
No feelings my heart is hollow
My mind finds everything shallow
From the time they ***** our peace
My siren head is on a frantic grece

∴ Lyna Salman