every night I wield the knife.
every night it takes a life.
blended with sad and emptiness, sorrow.
on a hunt for happiness I wish to borrow.
the more I see the more I am blinded by the lies you tell.
hoping someone can wake me up from this fantasy with a bell.
wishing for this door to open, a form of escape.
all wishes to sit with someone on a landscape.
but someone other than myself, though it won’t change.
someone so dear to me, not in that range.
