How can one sleep so much, but still never feel awake?
Be surrounded by many, but still feel so alone?
Eat so little, and still feel disgusted?
Have much to do, yet no ambition exists?
Be living, but not feel alive
Why, the tormented world feels as if it is an everlasting oxymoron
and quite frankly, I am not very fond of it.

And even though she thought the water was pulling her under
the waves were drifting her gradually back to shore.

There once displayed a canvas
with dignity not so visible
and confidence slipping by the second
The pain and suffering destroyed the once pure piece of art
Left behind nothing, but an ash coated canvas with no embers to be found.

It's okay to break, to shatter

to loose control until you've veered off the path
to drown your feelings with a bottle of *****
to chase down your sorrows with far too much sleep

Loosing control is what makes us human
and breaking a mere sign of being capable to fix
so break if you must
and loose control as you need.

The scent of you still lingers
The ever so gentle comfort of your warmth is now bare
The droning of the fan replaces your steady breathe
The aching subsiding slowly, but not near fast enough
Why does the bed feel so empty
And the room now quiet
If only you stayed a while longer dear
If only you could see the mess I've become