i'm sleeping with a knife again

i'm just a drawing on the wall

sooner or later everything falls apart

every day a punishment



I have tried so hard to do right

fought to heal every hurt

every turn I take

leads me back to where I started from



all my dreams

they die on me

and I don't think

there's ever healing it



the days grow long

filled with empty hours

when I wake up alone

with these shadows as my only company



splinters of glass at my feet

silence in her white dress

like dust on books no-one reads

and beds no-one sleeps in anymore



(speechless nameless sleepless alone)



"...the fog is rising"

[Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)]