Broken, careless, infested with doubt.
I'm barely able to move,
I'm surely lost on this route.
What is hope?
A foreign, cold hearted illusion.
Distant memories invade as though an intrusion.
Torn up paper pieces as small as my heart.
My passing days i used to control.
I know not a day without dry eyes, nor weak hands that do not search for grasp.
My silent torment, built up only to destroy.
Years of deceit, words never spoken.
I'ts triumphantly tempting to make this knife my token.
My token to remove this heart, ever beating slow and unspoken.
A filthy blur, overturns my sight.
Everything once dear to me has made it's escape.
I blame any of it not.
Trudging foot prints soar across mine eyes.
I look further no more.
My mistakes i drown in.
Extreme imperfection has brought me to my knees.
Of all of this i find, it's getting harder to breath.
Broken, careless, infested with doubt.
I'm barely able to move,
I'm surely lost on this route.
