Millions [Poetry]

plummet in pieces

plummet in pieces

november3twenty17

the painting's become all blurry, the lines are no longer defined, blended with tears and the weakness of the years that bind me ever tighter.

foretold before, I didn't leave when I had the chance. I belong in this garden of thorns, and I suppose that the consciousness lost is really the gain of a dream. I awake to a never-ending nightmare, my paradise is forbidden.

the world flows on, and I've been caught by the current. for a while I sailed, but the grip is gone and I'm underwater. I haven't felt air in what feels like centuries.

falling, falling. there is no way. maybe the end of the depth will harbor what I need, maybe I'll finally find sanctuary. probably not.

I feel for the broken, for the aching. I'm one of them. meaningless deception crumbles at my feet, and I break.

the pieces are so mangled, so impossibly torn apart that I must belong broken.