A draft wakes me up from my slumber,
Gliding down my spine the cold seems so teasing.
Through the years I have come to see -
that I've lost myself along the way somewhere somehow.
Now there is nothing but a cold draft from my window,
caressing my skin.
The side of my bed that used to hold warmth.
Is now nothing but an painful void.

Wishing here I am sitting on the edge of my bed.
Wishing that there was someone behind me,
the sound of another person breathing and sleeping.
Warm skin next to mine, a soft breath on my lips.
Wishing, It's all I can do.

It all seems like a waste of time,
all the wishing daydreaming and hopeing.
I do not ask for much, but i do ask.
Is there someone out there for me.
Would I find someone that would look me in the eyes,
and really see me.
Or would they see. Without seeing.

Words cuts deep into my mind like daggers,
making it hard to forget and harder to forgive.
To sleep, is like taking a bath into a pit of hurtful words.
Is it so wierd, that I have lost my faith in the world?
When I cannot be seen for whom I am, but instead
I am seen for whom I am not.