Isn't. Joy. Destroy.

I can't even see the end anymore.
There's no candy. There's no store.
I'm so lost and I can't find my feet.
But this isn't about my defeat.

This is about the torn up wings.
Days spent dwelling on unspoken things.
Another new gruesome tattoo.
World a series of grey hue.

The lifetime of regret, collapsing.
A thousand wild hands grasping.
Stuck inside an outside world.
A billion stars lit and twirled.

I've seen the way they look at you.
I've felt the way you think you do.
In this life there isn't much joy.
But it's still your life to destroy.