Sunday, December 1, 2019

my history


telephones don't ring
nobody's knocking at the door
mail doesn't come
I don't have friends anymore
I live by myself
I have nowhere to go
in this apartment building
there is no one I know

          what will become of me
          all that my eyes can see
          are signs of pain and loneliness
          that make up my history

nobody speaks
I don't hear a voice
but being alone
makes its own kind of noise
it screams inside me now
I can't hear anything else
I'm begging of you, please,
keep me away from myself

          what will become of me
          all that my eyes can see
          are signs of pain and loneliness
          that make up my history

I'll be okay
I'll be all right
maybe sleep will save me
when I turn out the light
when I am unconscious
I am okay
at least until I wake up
and face the new day

          what will become of me
          all that my eyes can see
          are signs of pain and loneliness
          that make up my history


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