weary
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This brain is far from empty,
For my demons lodge here too.
This body's getting heavy.
This soul's ready for the tomb.
My body is a shell.
a husk of what once was,
My mind makes lodge in hell,
For I have lived
And loved.
And laughed.
As so many have not had the chance.
So if i die today,
I die.
Better for the chance,
to see the sunrise some did not.
God please write me quickly
i'm running out of time,
my family has no time for me
and i can't say goodbye.
it's not the words that stop me,
nor their meaning make me cry,
Last night, my eyes were heavy;I was having trouble sleeping again,The room so dark I could not see,My skin raw, itching, and paper thin,
Blood pulsing in your veins
Feral growls passing through
Eyebrows knit together
All aimed at you
Limbs quaking with anger
Hands curl into fists
Shaking to slam one
Into a wall
A floor
Listen O' ye weary traveler
To my tale of Love and Death.
This life is a cruel mistress,
What makes me tick?
Where to even begin?
How can I reply when I can’t rely
On my own mind.
Exactly what kind
Of question requires a response to complex
It perplexes me, thoughts so convex
One day, my shoulders will give inDefiance will admit defeat, and they willDrop, like theBone-weary man wrapped around himself, shivering in the cold.
Deprived of the purification
my body and soul aches
my spirit dies a little
my heart cries a bit
and i remain physically intact
bound to behave and portray normality
for its a crime to shed emotion
Sadistic you are
Weary is I
The battle has been won
Are you proud?
Is there enjoyment in pain,
pain that you have caused?
Do I deserve it, no
