A hollowed opening- I was born,
Born through the doors of the Lost & Fallen.
Walking as awkward as my heart- Where it is driven by power.
My aching spirit is drunken and consumed,
Deadened numb from my thoughts In the gray areas of mind,
only to work behind the charcoal curtains and cotton light. Meaningless!
Where i live past pain but not pleasure, My cry of not pain,
but this "pursuit of happiness."
Am i so weary of finding pleasure, how can this be?
What has happened to me?
