It’s almost 3 am and I can’t find the door,
Stuck in a trap no escape through the floor,
I’ve been praying to God still my demons won’t sit,
Too tired to stand, traveled too far to quit,
The windows are shuttered, it’s too dark to see,
I’m not on a milk box no one’s looking for me,
Before I commenced my compass was broken,
Sleepwalking the streets suddenly I’ve been woken,
Forty one forks in the road where I’ve misread the map,
Bastard birds ate the breadcrumbs so I couldn’t turn back,
Blinded with fear, consumed by disgusted desires,
My heavy hearts healing from both frostbite and fire,
My mind is weakened by the whipping cold wind,
Soothed again is my soul by unfulfilled wishes and sin,
Far from true north, I’m no good with direction,
Pressed in the paradox can’t seek both love and perfection.
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