My body is battered, my brains a dis function.
My soul is ran rugged, my thoughts a consumption.
I'm driven to anger, I'm formed into rage.
I'm mad at myself, I'm set to engage.
I fight my own battles, I fail every time.
I win over nothing, I live a fine line.
These thoughts are my scape goat, these feelings don't change.
These hopeless walk lonely, these people are strange.
We have lost our own meaning, we no longer exist.
We run astray from each other, we can never be missed.
They poke and then prod, they try to upset.
They have mistaken themselves, they live with regret.
When your lost and your tired, when death is insight.
When giving it your all, is when nothing seems right.
WeI've fallen and rose, I've come close to my grave.
I've chosen my own, I've become my own slave.
Some never find peace, some climb to the top.
Some are filled with much love, some are infested with rot.
We've ended ourselves, we've ruined our homes.
We've made this disaster, now we've got to condone.
Is it hope that we're seeking? Is it even deserved?
Is it the end when we pass? Or is a place set and reserved?

By Cory M Lee

Year: 
2020
Forums: 

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