Bedtime.

As I think.

As I dream and wonder of everything.

I Lay In Bed.

Did I think of it?

Can my mind understand?

Because of all those meaningless times

Of the Days, Hours, Minutes, and Seconds

That I've wasted.

Was it worth it?

Questions, questions, and more

But never any answers.

No, none ever visited the Wicked,

The Distraught,

The Angered patron souls of those who've thought.

Helpless.

But why?

Now I see it's morning.

Ready only to do that one thing.

Ready to see or feel or think of that

One Soul.

That soul keeps you on the border.

Of your sanity.

But I think of falling.

Deeper and Deeper.

Failing.

When did I ever realize this?