There are scratches
on the wall
Pain is
waiting tomorrow
Whispers in
the hall
But you
know it’s not your mother
Your name’s
not Steve,
It’s
Annabelle
Pictures in
the stalls
Missing eyeballs
But you
know their following your shadows
Burning in
the back of your head
You’re not
crazy, you’re not dead
Reality is
you’re strapped to the hospital bed
Those halls,
those stalls, those missing eyeballs
All projections
from your psychopath mom
You hate
the life you live because of the burden you hid
Their watching
you, you feel their skin
Even though
its blue, pale and lifeless
Have I gotten
into your head…
Good…Now go
to bed
You can't sleep for their in your head
Begging you to finally come home
Annabelle, my Dear
Their watching you
every life you live
everyday you breath
the dreams you want
the reality you see
through your eyes,
its bliss with no redeem
causal thoughts, but we all know
their not all from your brain
Their dead
but they live through you
they watch you
and also watch the world
what they could not be
they have become in you
Now its 12, its time to sleep
the world is dead
but even the Dead know how to reap
Goodnight, Dear Annabelle
but even the Dead know how to reap
Goodnight, Dear Annabelle
 |
| even a wilted rose, once lived a life, do not be the one to destroy its light |
