Dead.

Part V

v

He never feels like trying anymore
The feathers of wings falling to the floor
A torn sense of motivation
Settles deep inside his core

Glass shards covering the floor
Digging into his feet for every step he takes
Light shines through the window,
Blood glistening on the crystals of a cracked beer bottle

He always blamed the house- the poor old house
Home with creaky floors and peeling walls
Yet, when no one was home the air felt lighter
The weight of that kind of abuse had lifted off his shoulders

He'd light another joint as his parents started fighting
The sound of the blow echoed through the house,
The walls seemed to shake and crumble
Under the pressure of the cost he would have to pay

Her grin would grow wider with every passing day,
Even wen he was still looming but not looking
It would stretch onto her face and the world became brighter
Though, the home was still broken and far too scarred to heal as fully as it needed to

He feels like he's dying,
He feels like he's dead.