I feel like I am smiling
faintly and weakly; perhaps
I am awake in some artificial state.
I feel like I am asleep, but maybe, perhaps
I am being being preserved in
some insomniac capsule.
There is an air of content and dull
I wonder if it's real?
I am drugged?
I want to write some pure, sweet poetry, like,
"... and everyone was happy,
within this moonlit melody,"
but all that comes to me is morbid
This is a weird state,
I'm sitting here and rotting in it all,
but I think there's a smile upon my lips.