No one's ever up when I'm awake. I swear the small hours are like daggers etching rivers of blood in my skin Leaving dark pools under my eyes to reflect my haunting. It's really not that bad It's just that the solitude of a dark room brings tears to my eyes quicker than a flesh wound Dampening the sheets that would keep me covered and safe. There are certainly other people in this house But to go to them and lay with them seems futile now Their dreams would bounce in their heads, thrashing, while I laid still, wondering. And I know that there are people who love me It's just so hard to remember when you are the only one alive at the moment With no one's eyes or smiles to create a life force for you to cling to joy. And I'm not really sad, or have no reason to be The weight of sleep and the burden of an overzealous mind pull my eyelids shut But bids me think until my brain no longer works and I die I mean fall asleep.