Wicked

B r o k e n D r e a m s

Sitting in that lonely corner, with alcohol, so you're not really alone

You gulp down misery, as if for your sins, could atone

Dragging back phlegm and tears, your heart is a heavy stone

It all weighs you down, paralyses your essence to its bone

You just sit there, alive and lifeless
Angry at the angels, forfeited ambitions, emotionally restless
Cursing your former perseverance, 'Foolish! Useless!'
Consenting to the lousy gossips, 'We all knew, it was worthless.'

You're eaten deep, even tears are not easy to weep
Too much stain, countless dirt, littered all over, impossible to sweep
What could you choose, insomnia or sleep?
Because it's getting dark, and those regrets start to creep

Intoxication, presumed to be a cure
But you know better, you're not pure
Your morals are all absent, you've lost the magic to conjure
You're empty, no reasoning, very clear you can't endure

What was it you said again, destined for greatness?
You can't even stand your ground, all your convictions, now weightless
Your own words, suffocating you in vengeance, unforgiving, merciless

It hurts terribly, those late nights, studies, experiments, determination, hunger for success

What happened to your courage, passion, what altered it, what caused a recess?

'Cause all of it has been folded, wrapped around in failure, labelled useless and thrown into the trash

You're not even desperate for a parachute, you want to end it, you want to crash

Recovery is not among your plans
No desire to restart, stitch your injured palms
Alleviate your mind's poverty, give out alms
No, you only count the cuts and bruises, remember all that harms

'No remedy,' self-declared chronically ill to the brim
'All that's left is to detach properly and trim, my former self, now slim'.
You've shed your skin and self-naturalized into dry realms
You're not among the living again, you're unconscious, drowned in your broken dreams