turned into slow decay.
Myself on the table,
no more lies inside,
I thought it all would be okay.
No longer in power, pushed whichever way wished.
There is nothing in this life now, that I have missed.
I slowly started moving closer,
smiling more and more.
Until one day you stopped and questioned,
While my bags still lay next to the door.
My friends turned into open season,
Me for you and them for your miss reason.
My ears, they bleed, while I sit quietly.
Begging for the rainy season.
And so I don't fight back, I have nothing left to say.
Because everything I did, didn't matter anyway.
I have nothing left to lose, little left to gain.
"There's nothing left, but the rest of each day."
I've thought about writing, but to me that's speaking my mind.
I've promised not to do that, cause that's where trouble I find.
But this is not a cry, a plea for a need.
This is a just an annotation, for me, just once, to feed.
The hunger for sanity, I've come so close to lose.
Misplace, ignore, and maybe even abuse.
So fix your enemies, I'll keep my own.
I'm not mad, sad, or feeling alone.
Just quiet, complacent, and more or less,
Becoming well known.
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