I'll always be furious at the number 7, but such is the hero's journey.
Madness string 105767
Words are all I have to hang onto. Everything mixed up, fragmented. Can't tell daydreams, night dreams, from reality anymore.
Sweet sleep! Enshroud me in thine fogencumbered wreath. Oh! To forget the world, and all of its dealings! Sleep, here I present myself to worship you. Come quickly, sweet Nemesis, I beg of you.