Underneath the clouds
But stumbling above the ground.
I quietly shout
What’s keeping me around?
What keeps me silhouetted in the background
Of your fickle heart and your crown?
When I open my eyes,
A blurry masquerade of a reality unmade.
I can’t tell if I’m awake.
And I can’t tell if I made a mistake.
I’m putty in your hand
At home with the ******
I can’t tell if I’m awake.
And I can’t tell if I made a mistake.
And I can’t tell if I’m insane.
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
Underneath the clouds
But stumbling above the ground.
I quietly shout
What’s keeping me around?
What keeps me silhouetted in the background
Of your fickle heart and your crown?
When I open my eyes,
A blurry masquerade of a reality unmade.
I can’t tell if I’m awake.
And I can’t tell if I made a mistake.
I’m putty in your hand
At home with the ******
I can’t tell if I’m awake.
And I can’t tell if I made a mistake.
And I can’t tell if I’m insane.
Hypnagogia is the transitional phase between wakefulness and sleep.
Request permission to use this poem