I come from high hopes and dreamy thoughts,
that nightmares consume,
I come from habits I have killed and buried deep,
that later appetites exhume.
I come from selfish fathers dead and gone,
yet they live a call away,
who see me as a plaguing weight from old mistakes,
still making them to pay.
I come from misunderstanding,
from confusion on what’s real,
I come from drugs that dull my heart,
lest I should come to feel.
I come from pulling plungers back,
to fill up my syringe of pain,
I come from hating what I do each day,
yet I won’t stop, you need experience to explain.
I come from lonely cells and useful friends,
that I don’t even like,
I come from gifts I sold for drugs,
whether an ipod or a bike.
I come from deceptions, cheating lying smiles,
that conceal and hide my plan,
I come from rooms of crowded tombs,
of dead and dying men.
I come from despair that I can’t bear,
seeing no safe way to eject,
I come from a place who knows the peace,
my cravings just reject.
I come from hurting hearts and feigned laughs,
and struggle just to say,
“This too shall pass, it’s not the end,
I won’t be left this way.”
I come from misplaced affection,
and the corresponding guilt,
I come from a town, that grinds me down,
that destroys the good that has been built.
I come from regret and the fearful sweat,
that gathers yet upon the brow,
I come from a place, I would leave with haste,
if I could be in anywhere but here.
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 11:59 PM UTC
I come from high hopes and dreamy thoughts,
that nightmares consume,
I come from habits I have killed and buried deep,
that later appetites exhume.
I come from selfish fathers dead and gone,
yet they live a call away,
who see me as a plaguing weight from old mistakes,
still making them to pay.
I come from misunderstanding,
from confusion on what’s real,
I come from drugs that dull my heart,
lest I should come to feel.
I come from pulling plungers back,
to fill up my syringe of pain,
I come from hating what I do each day,
yet I won’t stop, you need experience to explain.
I come from lonely cells and useful friends,
that I don’t even like,
I come from gifts I sold for drugs,
whether an ipod or a bike.
I come from deceptions, cheating lying smiles,
that conceal and hide my plan,
I come from rooms of crowded tombs,
of dead and dying men.
I come from despair that I can’t bear,
seeing no safe way to eject,
I come from a place who knows the peace,
my cravings just reject.
I come from hurting hearts and feigned laughs,
and struggle just to say,
“This too shall pass, it’s not the end,
I won’t be left this way.”
I come from misplaced affection,
and the corresponding guilt,
I come from a town, that grinds me down,
that destroys the good that has been built.
I come from regret and the fearful sweat,
that gathers yet upon the brow,
I come from a place, I would leave with haste,
if I could be in anywhere but here.
Dark days.
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