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A man lies in his bed in a room with no door... He waits, hoping for a presence or something, anything to enter After spending half his life searching He still felt as blank as the ceiling at which he stared He is alive, but feels absolutely nothing, so is he?
When he was six, he believed that the moon overhead followed him By nine, he deciphered the illusion, trading magic for fact, no trade-backs. So this is what it's like to be an adult? If he only knew now what he knew then...
Lying sideways atop crumpled sheets and no covers... He decides to dream... Dream up a new self... For himself
I'm Open... Come in...
