I sometimes wonder
little things like why
I don't sleep under my blankets
anymore, why don't I sleep?
Little questions like what
do all these nightmares mean;
why do I dream, why
am I afraid to see; what am I
afraid of?
am I afraid?
I sometimes spend nights
counting sheep and seconds
in a song, wondering
what life is meant to bring
to me
to us?
I thought about
minutes and windows,
and asked myself why you
showed up, why we fell,
why I am still holding on.
I thought about
reasons that made
sense of your words that
sometimes are quite
unexpected, I wonder why
surprises can't all be
good;
why do I fear?
I thought about
unmoving seconds
asking if I had the power to
move the motion of time
to my own delights;
why is time so
unbalanced?
Why are there never
answers satisfying
enough?
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