"Abating."

This constant distortion
This constant self-implosion

I try to hold on positively so
that I can be good for something
but all the better feelings of my
nature are being aborted leaving
me with nothing

This constant yearning
The constant chest hurting from
overexertion and loss of Hope that
never comes

I feel like I'm Not far from the floor
Never even made it to the door...

And now, I'm walking half dead

Just need the words to be said

Not the ones spoken in your
head;
Cause they never made much
sense, no, they never were
your friends...

Never were Our Friends

This constant distortion
This constant self-implosion

I try to hold on positively so
that I can be good for something
but all the better feelings of the
Higher Angels of my nature are
being aborted leaving me with
nothing

My life's an open book
Every chapter is a living disaster

I now feel as though I'm being
prepared for the Hereafter