5am on a Sunday

pjfan_lem

5am on a sunday
she sits and writes
she has so much to say
that twinkles like the lights
that spin around her
and over her head
and inside her soul
she lays alone in bed
aware of a secret goal
her thoughts begin to stir
about songs not yet sung
and how sleep it*still illudes
like a common bitter drug
that in her head intrudes
and tries its best to infer
that tomorrow comes
at rest's attempt
and the pounding drums
of tears she's wept
and a saddened cure
to the demmons inside
the meanings are clear
she tries not to not hide
her deep immenent fear
the world becomes a blur
of colours and shades
of purple and blue
the truth in time fades
the lies all become true
the pain yet to endure
caused by the unknown
and the forces within
lead to her cover blown
her life is worn thin
there's left no time after
to heal these old wounds
from these old*selfish scars
and the same old*sad tunes
hummed between the old bars
left her*under the water
drowning her slowly
she's grasping for breath
she knows there has got to be
a way to*get out of*this death
but in the end does it matter
to anyone else out there
to them what does she mean
and does anyone else care
thats left*lying inbetween
when the rest of the*pieces scatter
across the polished floor
of a life of perfection
and behind every door
is a*chance for refelction
in a tainted mirror
where wrong is right
and right is wrong
and she does not fight
for she knows this song
so she sings it loud and clear
across the empty void
her voice ringing out
shes getting annoyed
so she begins to shout
but there is no one to hear
inside where she's alone
a spot inside*is black
the emptiness has grown
and she wants to get it back
-lem 2003, 5:20am December 7th