I walk on landmines,
That I lay in-front of me.
The deaths of dreams I see,
Have become common to me.
Why is it that darkness seems,
So soothing and not bleak?
As I imagine the demons,
Come to rip apart at me.
The lifeless desires I conjure,
Become almost a daily life routine.
Why must I live like this?
A prisoner within a shell of me.
Maybe death is what I desire.
A forsaken life is what I live.
Running away from the demons I create,
Always escaping reality to see ahead.
What is it I desire?
Why can’t I accept my fate?
I just want this to end.
This brokenness to let itself mend.
A crippling weight I carry,
Along with me, wherever you see.
I don’t know how it came to me.
But now I can’t let it go,
And I can’t see.
Where do I go,
Where do I stay?
Why must this feeling of dread,
Eat at me everyday?
Why can’t someone see me?
Standing here, suffering.
Surrounded by a crowd but all eyes off me
Because suffering isn’t noticed,
Until the end of it’s story.
I’m standing here,
Ready to walk on landmines,
That I lay down in-front of me.
The deaths I see have become me.