I can make my voice strong
but the truth of that falsehood makes my throat burn
I am losing ground
slip-sliding over gravel
boots into wheels and I am back
and that control
is not over you
and it's not over me
it's just lost in space floating
between my pillows
and my quiet thoughts at night
the balm that I hope I can bring by turning off the light does
not quench
sleep does not smooth and
the jolt of decisions overly made
hashed and delayed
has my existence catching itself at the door
I don't want to be human anymore.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
I can make my voice strong
but the truth of that falsehood makes my throat burn
I am losing ground
slip-sliding over gravel
boots into wheels and I am back
and that control
is not over you
and it's not over me
it's just lost in space floating
between my pillows
and my quiet thoughts at night
the balm that I hope I can bring by turning off the light does
not quench
sleep does not smooth and
the jolt of decisions overly made
hashed and delayed
has my existence catching itself at the door
I don't want to be human anymore.
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