Wondering, whispering feelings of dread.
Thoughts that think themselves into your head.
The things that you see are buried and dead.
Wishing that you could just lay down and sleep.
Never awake, but not even a peep.
Wondering how you get something to keep.
Nothing at all is worth nothing I swear.
Indeed I have found myself wondering there.
I hate to stop; stand and stay here to stare.