The ghosts of my past,
they haunt me.
Like the thousands of voices in my head,
they cry and wail in agony.

Sometimes I falter,
under the pressure of living,
all I'm doing is giving,
every last bit of me I have to give.

I don't want to die,
but I kind of do, I guess.
It's kind of hard to tell,
when your mind's a mess.

Nightmares consume the night,
insomnia prevails.
I feel weak,
no wind in the sails.

Now I sit here,
silently,
mindlessly,
and wait for you.

This could take forever,
but I've already had to wait that long before,
so it shouldn't be that hard,
to wait that long once more.