A combination of faulty letters
Creating stumbly words of disproportion
In attempt to adequately portray the way I'm feeling
When the reality is
No number of malnourished thoughts
Can manifest into what can only be described as circumstantial emotions
On a blank canvas
Splattered in blood.
Because there comes a time
When my perturbation over this life overcomes the sentiment of warmth in this frigid wasteland we like to pretend is okay
And nobody looks back as they press on
To see me in my weakened state
Until my legs won't continue to proceed
And I'm obliged to stop
But I would have done it voluntarily because I can no longer remember what coerced me here to begin with.
As my eyes begin to close,
I await the familiar dream of tomorrow,
But it never comes.