You crumpled my sleep,
like a piece of paper
and threw it away to the garbage.

Who called for you,
nightmare of my existence?

You caged my rest,
my peace of mind.
I'm troubled
and diseased, by the ghosts of awakening.

I'm allowed to die,
but not to forbid.

I have no control
over my deeds and words,
even my thoughts begin to shatter,
I'm castaway inside a grave...

I was pagan before we met,
and now I'm just a mortal,
that awaits his death.

I need to sleep,
in order to shift moments,
so I overcome effects.

You wrote to me,on my paper sleep
lines about dreams...
but your pencil was weak and deceiving.

I can not stop reading from you,
book of life.