A lot tended to happen in the night

Drunken fist-fights

I love you’s

And a revolution of emotion

Thus I stayed away

Preferred Mornings

Less feelings

And more dehydration

I lost myself to the feeling of nothing

Got consumed by an identity

That was no longer mine

A fickle things these emotions are

Made on the basis of our survival

Whose idea was it 

That we would be able to survive the nightmare anyway.