No Rest For The Living, I Sleep When I'm Dead

Carelessly, I gave my heart away, to a man not meant to be.
Whispers I hear, day and night, telling me to take back what is mine.
A good man he is, but can never be mine.
That much I know, yet, I can't take back the heart that was mine.

Once a year, a message comes, stirring emotions which I spent months to ignore.
Pushing for the cycle to repeat itself, from start to end.
Like how the seasons repeats itself each year,
Like how the night will always come after the sun sets.

Even if in sleep, my mind do not rest, nor do my soul.
I am, but an empty vessel, performing tasks day to day.
No rest for the living, I sleep when I'm dead.
Buried six feet under, with the earth as my bed.