But you're nothing more than an insomniac, focused entirely on the things you lack. You muse you dream but in the end you slack and you have no one but yourself to thank for that.
The sun beckons but you ignore its calls, deafened by your worries and the doubt that stalls, all you want to do and what you hope to be, the hope that lifts you up momentarily, before the clouds impair your sight and the sun now too close appears to bleed light that has now become too bright
and just like Icarus hope gets burnt and falls back down to the ground where now it crawls.
You try to lift yourself up and stare warily at those around you and try to see,
what it is they possess that you don't have but you are filled with nothing but jealousy.
The sun is not for you is what you decide so the darkness is where you now reside. You wonder if from your mind you will ever be free.
I guess not, cause your mind belongs to me.