It’s so lonely, the path feels too cold to be stepped upon
Wondering whether to continue on the sorrowful road, or maybe,
It will be easier to let it all go, and perhaps easier so to end it completely.
It feels like absolute hell, a chaos of mind and heart, shattered in utter ruins.
Broken pieces of shattered glass being taped again, yet again, but never fixed.
Fragments so sharp still, memories glazed and dipped in melancholia, and nicked.
Trying to grasp onto that hope, that hope that it’ll be okay; I’ll be fine
but failing and disappointed at every curve of the damned roads,
trying to hide the scars and bruises; it’s deep, but in those heavy and tired eyes of mine, it all shows.
A red rose, a tarnished and withered symbol of love, yet none still, on the pavement, lying,
Stems no longer green; just white, white so pale, white wishing for death.
Roots dehydrated enough to die soon, soon it’ll die, the light will go out, beauty all gone, ugliness it met.
Wanting to shout, to cry out in this eternal abyss of dark, wishing for a light to show, but nothing,
Nothing but the chilly embrace of the thin line between living yet living without living still.
Nobody would get it, yet I do; it’s all I know, all I’ve known, life is nothing but an impending doom, everything null.
They slithered in and out, taking my heart, returning only shards;
They handed my heart back to me, in pieces
Pieces trying to find purpose, trying to get something somewhere, yearning for care, for love, for a home.
Yet… Yet, now all hope is lost, cannot be returned, no matter what; it’s disappeared, just a churn of distaste.
Strong? It's all a joke, I cannot be strong, never was, never will be;
an extra unwanted last choice, that’s all I am.
Useless, pathetic existence is all I’ve got; once it shone so bright, but it’s destroyed now, all gone,
Gone, poof into dust and nonexistent; all the nonchalance shown.
A lie, it’s all lies; look at me, so jubilant and giddy and merry.
Yet why does it feel so wretched? Why does it feel like I’m dying on the inside?
The light gets dimmer every day.
How much longer do I have before I go away too, shadows sliding; no place to hide?
Survive? It’s too far-fetched. I know it; I know I’ll be gone soon.
Let me fake it for as long as I can, as long as it takes,
I will, because I have nowhere to go now, drift into oblivion.
Cease to exist, but I have time; maybe it’ll all change for the better, maybe, into dissolution.