writing out revelations
has left me feeling empty.
Gunshots in the head of my trepidation.
Paths eliminated from the road I walk,
straight and narrow what was once winding,
Cut off my tongue, I'll never talk.
Stagnating vines grasp at my ankles, binding.
This broken path where the sun is bleak,
My spine shivers with thoughts ahead,
My soul is left tattered and weak,
Fear clutches my soul, dread.
Clutching to where the dreams used to be;
remembering all the places I used to see.
Pick me up from this dark place.
Pain so deep in my bones,
my soul dying I reach out
obliviously you flip your hair
Purge my soul -- my life's out of control.