Options

These Options, they cripple

My thoughts race, they triple

Get a grip I tell myself

But When there’s nothing to hold,

Even the strongest of grips fail

 

It’s about time the world sorted itself out

Give me back my freedom by restricting my choices

I lay in bed, all I hear is voices

Whispers in my ear

Saying I’m Dead on the inside

So alive on the outside

 

If I reverse them would I finally find salvation?

Thoughts flood my mind as I stare at the wall

Do I end it all, Or do I mend it all?

 

I’m seeking solace but all I get is pain

When I say take me away

I say it takes a mighty act to feign

 

Slumber you cunning bitch

Where for art thou

For I need you to stitch

These lesions for me, but when?

 

I spare a thought

That peace awaits

That slumber is a just a reach away

A blessing to end it all

A curse to mend it all

Cause I’d rather have a bandage or a suture

Than a fate that completes my future