A child's rhyme stuck in my head. It said that 'life is but a dream.'
I've spent so many years in question to find I've known this all along.
Dreaming of that face again. It's bright and blue and shimmering.
Grinning wide and comforting me with it's three warm and wild eyes.
Don't just call me pessimist... Try and read between the lines...
I wanna feel the change consume me, feel the outside turning in.
I wanna feel the metamorphosis and cleansing I've endured within.
I've been crawling on my belly, clearing out what could've been.
I've been wallowing in my own chaotic and insecure delusions.
My shadow's shedding skin
and I've been picking scabs again.
I'll keep digging till I feel something.
Something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be.
Desensitized to everything. What became of subtlety?
How can this mean anything to me
if I really don't feel anything at all?
This may hurt a little but it's something you'll get used to.