This final day I write you.
My tragedy only to be statistic.
My thoughts malicious and sadistic.
I crave its emptiness more and more.

When strife matches love, as anger matches passion.
I sleep through  my painful recollections
before I take on water as cold as the reflection in the mirror.
Conscious but still dreaming.
Analyzing my dreaming
Understanding but not telling
Only for the sick pleasure of knowing.

Its time to wake up
Time to live my dreams
In a sick twist of fate
I cast aside feeling