-Dreaming Lazily-
If I could just hae a room to myself
where I can ponder on my very existence
I can dream lazily of the very things
that make me happy.
His quiet and private love.
Nothing to argue, nothing to agree.
It's all in this strange syncopation.
The worries that plague my mind
cause my head to ache.
I long for the evacuation
from the very life in which I live.
It leads me to laughter
I didn't know that I could dream so lazily
and sweat so hard.
I could probably fold my nervous hands like bed sheets
I don't think I've ever felt so tired, so restless...
so contradictory.
I know I'd sit in the rocking chair in that room
where my mother used to rock me to sleep
never singing, never talking, never giving me the real love.

That was my own job. I have to be scarred from it.
I sway to my own music, the kind that gest stuck in your head.
It makes me into a slave of my body
rhythm, dreaming lazily.
Ha, I didn't even think that was funny.
Friendships in its peak of exhaustion.
I only wanted the best for myself, I still don't know what it is.
I could never know what it is.
That's why I dream lazily in my little space.
I could probably live there forever, meditating
I would dream lazily until the world would figure itself out.
Until I could be the woman I wanted to be from the first place.
This revival of the very feelings would probably bring me
to my weak knees, my growing body punishing me
for my dreaming, for my willingness to cry at my insignificance.
I could never pray, I had to dream lazily
to realize that my God has only taken my soul.
I try to, however, unsuccessful it seems.
I have no choice but to hurt myself for my deeds.
I will take that knife, I will take the blade,
place it where the real pain lies
utnil then, dreaming lazily.
Brings me to my eternal peace with the hostile emoitions
stalking me to the point of insanity.

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