Sometime when I lie awake, and it’s cold and dark and still,
I can hear muffled voices, coming from deep within.
Of dreams unfulfilled, of promises unkept,
Of tales untold, and of thoughts unsaid.
I face the mirror, gazing into my own eyes,
In search of that candor, entangled in the web of lies.
I long for that beam, with which my face had once shone,
In place of this synthetic sheen, worn in the fear of being alone.
I walk down the forgotten lane, trying to resurrect dead memories,
To revisit the innocent laughter, recreate those beautiful sceneries.
I am met with no one, the lane is now a wretched wasteland,
It has all abandoned me, like through one’s fingers slips sand.
The dawn has cracked, my surroundings are filled with light,
I put on my mask, preparing for another wingless flight.
I leave my abode, hoping for the day to be endless,
I dread being alone with myself, cannot bear another night sleepless.