Sometimes I sleep, wishing there won’t be a morning,
That the drapes on my window stay shut,
Just like my heart stays shut now.

I close my eyes, seeing nothing but dark,
Begging the dark to sing me a lullaby,
To soothe and comfort me,
For I might not open my eyes again,
For the dark might have to become my home.

I ask my ears to grow ignorant to the silent winds blowing,
To retain the essence of the birds chirping one last time,
Before it is unable to sense those vibrations anymore,
For the dark’s lullaby is deafening.

Sometimes I sleep, with my hand over my heart,
Taking in every last beat it makes,
For I wish there wasn’t a morning,
Where the sunshine took my dark away.