3:15 on April 18th

the lights will go out,

and everything you're about,

your world of familiarity,

is clearly gone, like it was transparency,

and is no longer visible,

now you're in this world: miserable,

no amount of sips from the bottles,

will change you're life: as it topples,

as you are the drunk at the bar,

now you are a fading star,

burning out like the flame of a cigar,

and you count the says until you die,

and hate the world that will cry,

for you 'cause once dead,

you can go back to the world alive in your head,

a place you were once from,

until that day though, you shall always be numb.