Somedays I think
I'll just perish like dust
who just came in and out,
unknown to the world.
Or I'll just fall into
the layers of oblivion,
down and down, fleeting,
away from the sight of world.
And somedays, I think
It's the fear knocking at my door
Or it's the grueling pit, waiting,
to prison my soul
And will I ever escape,
once I become prey?
Will I ever walk
on the road that I made?
Somedays, I think
about this cacophony
of sirens, going loud,
in the dreamer's land.
Unrealistic seeds sown,
to wear the crown.
Will it ever replenish
to seize the day?
Or will it wither away
in winter's gaze?
And when the day comes,
to test the water,
I hide away,
Afar in the dungeons.
I shield myself,
from hurling stones
and box myself,
into the unknown.
And I think I'll perish to dust
in the grueling pit,
away from the rest.