When Verbs are Just Words

Late nights, shimmered lights.
Caught beneath a sunset's dream.
Wake me up before I scream.
No one will hear you,
and your midnight scheme.

Tell me who to vote for.
Tell me what the show's for.
Give me enough that I can go for.

Dolphins swimming in the moonlight
and your heart is as a Bug.

The man who syphoned my motivation
lives inside.
The man in my ears says,
"Listen to me."

There are sheets and blankets,
towels and pillows,
shallow hearts and regret.

Still no one will
push me off this cliff.
Don't be afraid,
I was made with
wings to fly.

Just push me
ever so gently.
I need a forceful freedom.
Or is it freedom?

Break me where I'm rusting
so the steel wheels
will start spinning.

Push me off this bed.
My wings will spring forth.
Push me quickly.

I'm sick of sleeping,
watching myself dreaming.
Move me,
don't tuck me in.
I'm sick of this
                       bed.
I'm ready to
                       soar.

Somehow wake me,
though I'm not sleeping.
Someone please
open
my open eyes.