It's the life of an insomniac.
Born by the night, and sworn to darkness.
When the sun is laid to rest, evil and fright fill the air.
This is when I feel I belong the most.
Words cannot describe the deadly mixture of emotions brewing in my soul
The notebook lies open, acting only as a victim
The pen erupts into a disaster, unleashing a flurry of lightning and misery
Writing is merely a stimulant, not a solution.
Although my body is at a complete halt, my mind races at the speed of darkness.
We all know the speed of light, but what is the speed of darkness?
It is a nonstop effort to finding your true self.
I have yet to discover the real me, and I'm traveling faster than ever.
It's been said that I'm crazy
Why chase advice from those who say I've lost my mind?
This is a writing from scrambled thoughts and emotions.
So it's messy, and confusing, and raw.
But then again, so am I
