My eyelids are as heavy as my heart
I fall on the bed dead tired
When I've not accomplished a thing all day
But the wires in my brain won't let me fall completely

My breathing is ragged and slow,
Dragging just like the seconds
My chest heaves up and down
But the color of my breath is transparent

Suns and moons alternate in a daze
And there's always the struggle to remember
But my memory isn't failing me
This is my reality

My reality is a picture,
Drawn by authors writing loss
Painted by artists materializing emptiness
Full abyss; my color is black

And maybe I drank too much Red Bull
Energy in my veins pumping and alive
But it pirouettes into the void
And leaves nothing for me to spend

I tread on empty linnes and uneventful days
And I wish there's something to hold,
Something to pull me out and build me up
For I'm broken beyond repair

What am I without this empty sheet of paper
Where empty words are drawled in red ink?
What am I without notes on the staff
Foreign words dying on foreign lips?

I'm the clock that doesn't tick,
The mouth that doesn't speak
I'm the shadows casted on your face when you cry at night
I'm the gray and I'm the black