Lying on my bed, waiting for sleep,
Drifting on in silence, counting sheep.
One, two, three,
He doesn't love me
I have to break free,
From this insanity.
Four, five, six,
I don't care what he thinks
I'm suspended at the brink,
If I let go I'll sink.
Seven, eight, nine,
He doesn't have time
He couldn't make it for me,
I don't need him in my life.
Ten, eleven, twelve,
No more stories to tell
No more memories to make,
No more pictures on the shelves.
Drifting on in silence, counting sheep,
But the one thing I won't get is a blissful sleep.
Counting sheep never works for me. Never. It usually goes something like this:
-Hey is it sheeps? No that sounds terrible-
-You know what else sounds terrible? The word 'moist'. Like. Ew.-
-And ughhhh I hate when people speak text language in real life. LIKE HELLO JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE SOCIAL MEDIA DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE A SEPARATE LANGUAGE FOR IT.-
-Why was six afraid of seven? Cuz seven eight nine hahahahaha that's not funny-
-And you know what else isn't funny? SecretIdentity16 's puns.-
-And wow she has so many. Remember that one she told you yesterday, Via?-
-Haha yeah, I remember that one, Liv.-
....Wait what number was I on again?
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| WATTYS 2018 WINNER: THE POETS | ❝Only when one can smile at her own reflection, be proud of her own thoughts and be happy with who she is, will she learn to fall in love with a candid picture.❞ Unveiled, unmasked, revealed. Displayed for the worl...