Perhaps the words I want to say,
Will never leave me in a way
As dust and fog cloud my world
You stand there standing, underestimating
A broken mess of a soul
Is what I’ve become
A foul soul livid with rage n sorrow
A fragile self with no yearn for tomorrow
For the cliched life in me
You were the world to me
Dreams that won’t be fulfilled
But grow inside, waiting, mocking, baiting
Perhaps the answers I seek,
Will never lend themselves to me
As rain and lightning breaks my self,
You stand there, not understanding
A pleasure for the soul
Now breaks inch by inch
A pickaxe slowly cutting astray
Of self that I had hidden away
Hatred n sorrow is all I feel,
As an embodiment of lies fester and grow
Why have I not realized it yet
That perhaps I am that,
That perhaps I am sorrow.
What is it that takes to connect,
To another in ways that one can’t comprehend
Why is it that words are too less
To describe what my self had felt
I wish for nothing but the desires I have
It’s perhaps selfish but i know
And I stand here, still standing
As you walk away, leaving.
As I stare,
As I desire.
As I watch my dreams with leer.
As I still stand here, unrelenting.