It's this migraine of swirling, or paused pulse in the head.
As if the revolution of earth is felt in much faster pace,
And only you are in this ride of earth farris wheel.
Are you alone in this darkness,
As if beneath the deep sea,
And striving desperately gasp to the surface to breath?
Those moments your beats stop in seconds,
but that second felt like a life span,
And you want to knock everything on the table to release your senses.
This desire to bash your head against a wall,
Until this pressure in your head halts,
And allow the circulation to resume with the flow of your blood?
Razor upon the skin to release senses of the nerves in this numb within,
Allowing your warm blood to flow,
And remind yourself you are alive?
In a brief moment of solitude,
As the midnight bring solace,
You allow yourself to dream?
I remember what it was like to be stuck in a personal bars against the walls,
And once I freed myself of the painful truth,
The walls that prisoned me was unbuilt and reassembled to my personal throne room.
So why build your dungeon, when you can build your villa?