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God, the room won't stop. |
|
If I could just open my eyes forever, |
|
I'd never have to feel this lost again. |
|
But would I feel as whole, |
|
As in control? |
|
Am I slowly drowning, |
|
Or staying afloat |
|
With each soothing burn cascading? |
|
Maybe Hunter was right. |
|
Taking all this in is overwhelming. |
|
All attempts to heal are badly failing. |
|
Is there something more that I am missing? |
|
Feigning what I feel... |
|
Am I really falling further? |
|
Is this the final straw? |
|
Fortune has its way of laughing |
|
On those with scars laid bare. |
|
Am I really falling further? |
|
Is this the final straw? |
|
Fortune has its way of laughing |
|
On those with scars laid bare. |
|
I wake up surrounded by evidence |
|
Of another night gone awry, |
|
Why can't I break this cycle of relapse and revelry? |
|
I have lost composure |
|
For what seems like the hundredth time today. |
|
I don't know why I can't get beyond the urge to drown myself. |
|
This current pulls me under, |
|
Beneath the undertow |
|
As shattered memories wash out to see. |
|
Floating down, |
|
I fight back the tide. |
|
(I will fight the tide.) |
|
And I'm as useless as an orphan's cry. |
|
From virulent sustenance, |
|
The product of consequence. |
|
From virulent sustenance, |
|
The product of consequence. |
|
From virulent sustenance, |
|
The product of consequence. |
|
My body forces retribution |
|
For the onslaught it endures, |
|
Another night of purging myself of my weakness. |
|
Pull me from the water, |
|
It's time that I finally breathe again. |
|
I'm a ****ing mess. |
|
****ing mess. |
|
****ing mess. |
