One ripped off the last remaining parts of what is left within my heart and took off like I was some drug that could not be bared for much longer,
A drug that destroys itself, while destroying anything that shows any signs of affection, the same affection it feeds off,
Impulsive, or so they say.
This is war and as a drug, I search for yet another victim,
A victim in search of peace,
Quite the opposite of what the drug can provide,
Therefore cannot keep up for much longer.
Oh! Look, onother one gone,
What is left of my heart?
Not that it matters,
That could lead to me being lonely.
Oh! There!
Someone has picked an interest, could it also be in search of peace?
Possibly happiness?
Hopefully not, Oh! Wait!
It is in search of light, the very same light I yearn, while providing darkness .
This war has destroyed me, half alive, however, drugs were designed to destroy, therefore my search for the next victim continues, while I die and die slowly.
