At night..

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I miss the ones who’ve said:

‘It’s true!’

I can barely move,

Starrin’ at the wet white ceiling

And thinkin’ at the other’s groove

While swingin’ my legs w/ a weird controled move.

Thinkin’.

Imagining.

Fallacing.

Swinging-the mood.

Slowin’ down my breathin’

“N’ listenin’ the silence outside

But the noises inside

My mind,my body,my soul-a hole.

Liein’ to myself and sayin’:

‘That’s not true’.

Just another selfishly illusion,

Findin’ another precisely conclusion..

Wipein’ my thoughts

And desperately tryin’ to fall asleep.

But no.

I still see the insomnia’s weep.