something that might be called You

sometimes it feels as if

my mind is a cage

the thoughts within are rabid beasts

and the only key out

is sleep

but even oblivion

shies away when i reach out

my fingers brush the edges of darkness

and it fades back

sometimes it feels as if

i’m locked in my head

hunted by the monsters

some call ideas

these are the times

i refuse to go to bed

because i know

that no matter how close to the gates of sleep i might get

they will stay barricaded

and outside of them

is a war zone of fear and disgust

and the only safe spot

is something i don’t posses

something that might be called 


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