Some lay at night and count sheep,
I count the minutes until I sleep.
My dreams are my reality,
A place where I feel safe, away from all the brutality.
I’m not frightened by the informality, I feel immortality because of the hospitality.
My morality is guided by the neutrality,
And I feel safe until I realize the actuality, notice the irrationality.
Begin to sense the change as my mind starts to rearrange.
I shift into a darker place, I don’t recognize my own face.
All my memories I try to erase, but they’re there for everyone, like on a showcase.
I try to change what I was before, don’t do the same things anymore.
But I can’t change how I think or who I am, like a flower with no petals, just a stem.
Nothing beautiful or sweet, cold and dead with no life or heat.
So instead of staying up while I weep,
I close my eyes and go to sleep.