The unconscious mind sometimes hunts over the most eternal nights.
It tries to break loose like a flying goose still ends up in horrendous fights.
The ferrocious weather rippes out the heathers and turns off the bright lights.
Thoughts, then, become rare as I’m in utter despair, don’t know what could be positively right.
Carrying an innate weakness, somehow, I stay sleepless battling with myself.
I then wander avoiding highness, and bide in silence trying to rest within my shell.
There’s hopelesness as you stare, I can’t even repair my own collapsing health.
The insatiable brain struggles, and scantily copes with trouble pitying it’s unknown fate.
Sleep deprivation awakens while I’m constantly being shaken by a mysterious perverted will.
It overtakes the empty room as it fills it up with scary gloom making me painfully ill.
Once again, a queer fascination arises as I feel like I’m in crisis steadily climbing an endless hill.
Thus, I can only tremble while I hold and handle my most precious writing-quill.