Some sort

From the shallows screaming about gallows...
Looking really hard to find something...
Bowing and finding reasons to die alone...
Falling on days that shouldn't be believed...
Hoping not to see the sun again...
Living and only see boundless dark night...
Comfort in sleep of sort...

Grit, grim, godawful

Light splashes about with a heat...
And is unwelcomed on mornings unsettled...
The fright of rolling over to hide inside a dizzy head...
Fighting the night all over again...
Trying it again to find something that isn't always...
Where did that peace go to...
Waiting and Hopeing for the darkness to start again...
So that the new fight for some control can playout again...
Behind closed doors these stupid stories only 2 or 3 repeat...
The definition of minds wasted only dreaming again...
Of being some kind of hero and not being just dirt...

Few options

Staying by starlight piecing together missing parts...
Rock n roll keeping together the wasted searches...
Sometimes, everytime never seems enough...
Even if everything there's nowhere else to look...