The desolate darkness speaks,

Louder than your words and louder than your shrieks,

So listen, listen to the whispers from the demons in your head,

Lay down on your pillow, darling, and let the tears be shed,

Think about the past, good and bad, let your heart ache,

Remember the memories, the best ones, the ones containing mistake,

Think about the future, where you'll go, and who you'll be,

Is it perfect the way you picture it? Do you like what you see?

How does it feel when the darkness encloses around you?

Do you feel engulfed? At ease? Or scared to move?

The feeling while you're alone, thinking in the dark, isn't anything of content or zeal,

But rather a sort of uneasiness because everything that crosses your mind is absolutely real,

The thoughts, reflections, scenes, dreams, all of them a piece of your life,

And you lay there pondering, either smiling, or about to cry,

I look forward to going to bed each night, and it's not to count sheep,

No, the last thing I do is sleep,

Instead I lie there, eyes open, mind awake,

And think about my life, and the paths I'll take.