Sleep, the most vile time in my life.
A time full of depression and self-loathing.
A time where I think of those who've wronged me.
Those I've wronged today.
Those I would spend life in jail just to get the better of.
Morning comes, on my feet now.
Have to hid it all from them all.
They can't know, that this is me.
The appearance I must uphold.
The think I'm strong, they think I'm cool.
Would that appearance shatter if they knew.
Like glass it would crack, break, destroy.
They're comments would sunder my strength.
Yet the comfort of telling would help.
I know I could be better.
I know I could be stronger.
I know I could be happier.
I know that this is all bullshit.
But nothing changes, nothing changes.
Sleep, the most vile time in my life.
A time of depression and hate.
A time of perpetual darkness.
Morning comes soon, I wish it were still night.
