HI EVERYBODY!! Its 9(ix)! Thisis my first attempt at writing anything
Remnants-y....i kno it sucks, but oh well

Poem I wrote at 3 am for no readily apparent reason...its not very good....
Sorry
It's a basic over view of Billy's thoughts during his time of the Mayflower

Panic.
Waiting—begging—for sleep.
Sleep remains elusive.
Held just beyond his reach.

Frustration.
Desperate to free himself.
Trapped behind Plexiglas.
Imprisoned in his own body.

Despair.
Lost all traces of hope.
Ready to give up.
Praying for Death.

Insanity.
Reality shifts and inverts.
Memories and fantasies blend together.
Images dragged up from the depths of his mind.

Emptiness.
Reaching out.
Longing for something.
Anything.

Enlightened.
A flood of newness.
Such exciting, novel images.
Nourishment to a starved mind.

Hope?
Faces, voices, change....
All happening so fast....
Is it real...?

Does it matter?