A Matter of Perspective

Lying in my crystal room, thinking of the sun and moon.
Cold and numb, hollowed and filled with memory.
Lying about those crystal glasses, my hangover will strike soon.
I long for it to consume me, it's solemn regret to envelope me.

Lying down with wolves, the sheep left ages ago.
The pack is snarling, and they too outcast me.
Lying in my crystal room, my limbs shiver so.
Shaking and crying, the crystal room may no longer be.

Lying on the crystalled floor, pleading for just another night,
My crystal room, too, leaves me laying sobbing.
Lying on a frosty street, thinking of ending the fight.
My mind is weak, my body is throbbing.