Cold grips my heart as sadness appears I wish I could have foreseen with power from seers I wish I could have thrown and given up the chance I wish I could have done something to enhance That sulking grace, never has my soul wavered Like this, like a thousand trees that quavered I lost, that much is clear to me now So why am I still hanging on to that vow? Slowly dying, that flame I won't admit Can something save me, can someone do it? Because I can't save myself—I'll just scat Flounding, flaunting, my heart became harder to cut
People are there but most are mot I say my words, despair and hopelessness I begot Plans made and plans lost, perhaps it's what I deserve I'm not the best and only the best reserve The faithful adoration, the world of praise I sit by the benches of solitude and dark haze Of my own mind, is there a way out of this? Everything is dark and lost forever, it seems Eyes shut as minds chose to believe one thing Emotions dive and I'll pretend it doesn't sting Of all the strong hurt will my pain only jot I stare as my dream slowly became harder to cut
No sense, no life—what are you going to become? Lost, worthless—is this what defeat is to some? Everything is gone, dropping like flies in heat Passion, ideals, perhaps even morality, a little bit Sold my soul, perhaps death had been right about me Shabby? Maybe—I don't care anymore, really I don't know if I should fight or will I surrender Shall I accept my fate and maybe even remember How happy I am in ignorance, dreaming of heights Now that I counted the steps, the top is nowhere in sight In my own traps, under a moonless night, I sat These thoughts are becoming harder to cut
The fire spreads but the forest dies down Confidence wanes and perhaps I should just drown In my own damning threats, at my own toxic deeds I bring people down with me as I hatch the seeds So I should just go and hide what I feel Be happy for them while deep inside, I reel I am horrid, perhaps, not really deserving of adoration I did nothing but cry so I should forsake redemption Feelings are too strained, bonds are poised to break Who will continue on for my poor soul's sake? Because dreams die and dreams are anything but Sinful, destructive—I am becoming harder to cut
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Our thoughts and destructive selves are hard to fight sometimes. This poem is dedicated to everyone who fights demons inside themselves every day. Keep fighting.
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