Twist the rings around your fingers
Until everything turns numb
And fades to black.
It’s common sense to think
That sleep is a temporary death,
One that will bring recovery.
But we all well know
That three minutes is all we have
Before the clock chimes thirteen.
It’s hard to imagine life
But it’s harder to live one
You are the demons in my cellar at four in the morning
Begging to be fed
Like the cats that cry murder
In the dead of the night.
And I crawl underneath the covers
Just to have one more minute
To my lonely self.