Depraved, Deprived

An acoustic intro to an album I've been writing.

In silence the sleeper is not what he is supposed to be
In fear and faith, the pillow has held the key
And in a selfish cycle of self abuse it would seem
That sleep has held it's own, rare and evading

A thousand days spent in a haze
Have turned into nights, dreams maze
Contriving to be intrucate and confusing
If only to keep awake another hour

The cruelty of the brain unto it's housing
Has proved to be most astounding
It will not cease it's calculations and crafting
The next day is a sea of pre-planning

But this is no contract or sure thing
The futility of the act, and a bell will ring
And signal the end of the endurance
The crash is coming

Author's Note

Unmodified, unedit. Typed as it flows.

Reviews

[Bella]

This is great writing. It really flows, and once again, I feel like I can relate to it.