Sleep

is for the weak. And the tired. But not for me. Never for me. NEVER.

Scared.

I'm not comfortable writing about it on here much, but I'm really afraid of myself right now. Strange and terrifying things have been going on, nothing that has never happened before, but it's gotten more frequent and alarming. Sometimes I wonder if I really am just completely out of my mind.

Cynicism

My rose-colored glasses were run over by a bus, and I'm not sure where to get new ones. Plus they're probably pretty expensive. I guess for now I'll have to settle for the world being drawn in grays and blues.

Cycles

There is a fire in my heart, that starts from an ember,
and slowly grows, getting brighter and brighter, drawing

inspiration and beauty

to it, growing brighter, until the light is blinding.
Then, one day, it burns out,
leaving me once again

cold and alone

in the darkness.
I stumble, and eventually manage to relight one small ember,
and the cycle starts again.