What can I say?
My life resembles that which surrounds me. Chaotic fragments of days ticking away on the time bomb.
TICK. TICK. TICK......
Fragments of time scattered like shrapnel in a war zone. My life is a war and my mind the battle field.
I'm existing like an outcast that stands in the shadows along the great divide. Some say I'm an addict others say I'm crazy, over dramatic, consistently unhappy. Everyone's mouths are soaked in ignorant opinions.Opinions that spit in my face clouding my vision.
It's all a blur. It's all in havoc. It's a complexity of tragic outcomes.
I've grown tired and my body bares the truths of my decay. Withered and wilted. Torn and shattered into a million pieces. Pieces that can't and won't ever become whole, match up and bind.
These shards cut deep into the hands that continually attempt to make them fit, make them work.
My hands are covered by the scars of many days passed bleeding and blistered soaked with anxiety and apathy.
What life story is there to a life that no one knew? What legend can be born from a mystery never solved? What winds will carry a tale of a forgotten name?
Friday the 13th has always been an omen that stemmed from gory horror films. Bad luck? Bad karma? Or simply something we're hardwired to believe?
4:30 brings about a change in the tide. One that's currents are swiftly chipping away the sands beneath my feet.
Will I continue forward on this path of jagged rocks or jump from them in a flight to peace?
Only time will tell and in that time I will be made or what little is left will be broken. More pieces of me that were already lost. Pieces floating down the river of decisions, destiny and everlasting questions.
4:30 come soon so that I may lay to rest the battle that brews within.
My life resembles that which surrounds me. Chaotic fragments of days ticking away on the time bomb.
TICK. TICK. TICK......
Fragments of time scattered like shrapnel in a war zone. My life is a war and my mind the battle field.
I'm existing like an outcast that stands in the shadows along the great divide. Some say I'm an addict others say I'm crazy, over dramatic, consistently unhappy. Everyone's mouths are soaked in ignorant opinions.Opinions that spit in my face clouding my vision.
It's all a blur. It's all in havoc. It's a complexity of tragic outcomes.
I've grown tired and my body bares the truths of my decay. Withered and wilted. Torn and shattered into a million pieces. Pieces that can't and won't ever become whole, match up and bind.
These shards cut deep into the hands that continually attempt to make them fit, make them work.
My hands are covered by the scars of many days passed bleeding and blistered soaked with anxiety and apathy.
What life story is there to a life that no one knew? What legend can be born from a mystery never solved? What winds will carry a tale of a forgotten name?
Friday the 13th has always been an omen that stemmed from gory horror films. Bad luck? Bad karma? Or simply something we're hardwired to believe?
4:30 brings about a change in the tide. One that's currents are swiftly chipping away the sands beneath my feet.
Will I continue forward on this path of jagged rocks or jump from them in a flight to peace?
Only time will tell and in that time I will be made or what little is left will be broken. More pieces of me that were already lost. Pieces floating down the river of decisions, destiny and everlasting questions.
4:30 come soon so that I may lay to rest the battle that brews within.
