As I wake, in the cold, dark room,
I start to wonder how I arrived,
Was it all real? All the doubts and gloom?
If so, I'm lucky to have survived.
But that morning ritual, although quick,
Still makes me think that it's all been a dream,
And that I'm in a hospital somewhere, dying, sick,
If only I could gain consciousness and scream.
I continue through the day, thoughts all around,
And I think about life as someone else, anyone,
Because being me is no fun, almost always feeling down,
And separated from reality, my mind completely numb.
As the hours fall and time says goodbye,
My ideas of freedom from the world kick in,
And I wonder what it'd be like to fly,
But it all turns to sadness on the tip of my pen.