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Broken Glass
The truth of the matter is it's not getting easier for me
To get up every single morning; debating if I should breathe
Despite my hopeful assumptions of a better tomorrow
I feel like I'm getting absolutely no where with these promises.
Everyday is exactly the same; waking up with the same pulsing pain
My thoughts are racing through my head; they're starting to ricochet
My breath is short, my lungs are collapsing and I'm running out of ideas,
As to how I should bother reacting to these mentally consuming pleas.
I'm clawing at the broken glass for some sort of freedom from this chaos
But in all truth here, every hope I've had is seemingly almost lost
The broken pieces reflecting on a better life I find myself thirsting for
With eyes that are so tattered when I find them gazing into me; they bore
I've held in the voice I thought was gone for so damn long
Eventually it'll release with the most chatostrophic and piercing song
The song of the dysfunction I pray I could one day say I had escaped
Instead of embracing it like I did back within those darkened days.
[of my life]
