Sleep Diction

Overcast of Trembling Spoons

Incomplete.
If I were to choose a word,
to be me.
But as true as this statement stands it remains false.
For no soul, can meagerly be represented by a single word.
Regrettably.
I mean how fucking sad can I be.
As much as I want to be.
Said selfish me.
I've lived a little, loved slightly, and believed in myself barely.
The outside voices resound much greater than the song I play daily.
I do have courage.
But my purpose is questionable.
Yet still here looking at a ceiling wondering if I have one.
Furthermore, what it is.
Celebrated for my talents.
They aren't mine.
What are you praising me for?
So much praise to die for.
But when I speak of death, life worries for me.
All these useless dreams of living alone.
Words that are not my own, but adopted, for I fell in love with them.
I fell for words.
Such a deep pit, oh how they love to talk.
And yet, so do I.
I have issues with sleeping.
And yet, so do you.
For I just called you me, and in return you called yourself you.
I see.
We aren't the same.
I never asked for that anyway, so why make that claim.
For it to be a claim, it somewhat has to be true.
Truth was the only thing I was ever asked to speak.
What I asked myself anyway.
Still with all this claim, I can't fall asleep.
It's a part of being alone.
Not being able to share your thoughts.
Not allowing your brain to speak.
I wear that title the mightiest of them all.
In all my shame.
To admit, to be honest, to be true to the one person who truly matters most.
Me.
Stop trying to save me.
It's a job for me to do.