Everyone is dead, I think.
Be it morning or night, I don't sleep a wink.
In thoughts, I retire, I rebel, I transpire.
This spring holds none to miss,
This air, to me, holds no bliss.
I think of sanity now and then,
But overpowered, I run back to my den.
The sky embarks upon the fairest hue,
And I sit patiently for death to ensue.
How loyal I am to this greed —
To have my insanity freed.