  I often wonder about with nothing but a song in my head,  Something soothing something sad,  I don’ t know why it is so hard to be happy,  To enjoy the things I have,  My life is an ever waking nightmare both too horrible and too explicit to explain,  I cannot sleep for when my eyes close I am haunted by my own demons,  Each seems to be created for a purpose,
 So I lay awake in a daze of what my dreams should be,  But only so long as my eyes are open,  Even then it is as if they are taunting me,  Showing me glimpses of my nightmares as I blink my eyes,  In these times my emotions fly not really in a particular direct,  but every which way And reign free upon the shallow gravely memories that my mind tries so hard to forget,
 For my mind in its turmoil whips like a hurricane,  Tearing at my emotions and every shred of my humanity,  Yet to others I am happy always smiling without ever a frown on my horizon,  But that is not who I am,  For who I am is beyond even my comprehension,  For I know that I am the child who cries himself to sleep,  Then cries in his dreams.
