Dire Daydream ©
By T. Chris McLain
It's gotten to the point where I talk to myself
That surely can't be a good sign
It seems that I've run out of options these days
I keep telling myself that I'm fine
I go through the same routine everyday
Creativity seems to have fled
But I fight the good fight and I head for the light
And I humor the voice in my head
It's hard to make sense of it all
You realize one day that you've dropped the ball
My memory's selective it seems
My consciousness echoes with hundreds of screams
Is this what it's like to be mad?
I've had some real lows but can't say that I'm sad
At what point did I lose control?
Did I wake up one day and unconsciously say
"From now on I'll live life in a hole?"
Utter silence is loud
But the silence I know could be heard in a crowd
Freedom will come at a price
I can't miss my chance - I won't get it twice
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