Tunnel
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Where am I going?
A cold wall
The floor is moist
Water was drained
Pure water, tainted
Sewage in the mixture
My days sim a little dimmer than they use to be
The cold, dark clouds seek refuge in my heart
I ask why I even bother to get up
Because out of the darkness, there is in fact a light
That tunnel runs from me
Ever so still
Breathing slowly
In and out
But nothing
At all
Seems to come
From your heart
Icy frozen
Deep inside
Nothing breaks
The hard shell
Inside is air
I weave, thrive and twist in the tunnel of wind
Thrashing me forward, he winds me up as a toy
Unbounded, he twists me still and steals my jacket
In this tunnel of wind I stand, sit and wretch
I hate this feeling. The feeling of hitting your breaking point. You're so broken and shattered on the inside. How can it get any worse? But then it does. And you feel like you can cry an ocean, and drown in your own painful tears.
Inspire me beloved poetry,
surrounded in nothingness,
alone and lonely,
no place to call home but hell,
but if hell is my realm then what next may come,
asked I the suicidal bastard son,
