when did things get so heavy?
sleep became a joke
and laughs became sighs,
when all diversity was lost.
hope is a shadow of its former self.
every creak produces fear.
all the flowers are wilting,
and all my skin is dead.
echoes are in the corners of my room-
reverberations of rehashed arguments.
oh, if i could ask but one favor,
it would be for you to leave the lamp on.