Lying in wake from the mare of night
that forgot to end when it woke me.
Lying in wait in the seemingly
hours endless, waiting for
sleep's sweet rescue,
if not it be a vehicle
back to hell,
momentary thoughts of sweet relief,
delivered by cold steel with hot lead,
dance across frontal lobe.
Then the sanity of the
me insane,
takes control
of my brain,
with thoughts of
self preservation,
and for way is does not know,
wouldn't it be easier to just let go,
for there is no one who would miss or care,
if I was never again, not nowhere
but gone, gone, gone.
More easily ignored
though that seems to be
no problem anyway
everyday.
