I don't think this cycle is meant to be broken
I seem to be running in circles, frequently going back into old habits like it's bound to happen
I detest each passing day with a passion because I should be living a life worth telling and I should be dreaming dreams that I will make into a reality
But I keep cutting my words short, filling my lungs with smoke and body with scars too prominent to show
I have nothing to look forward to, my days feel numbered and I'm not responding well to the help I'm offered
I'm burying my voice along with the others, I'm not afraid of them anymore

I will let them devour me alive, watch them tower over me until I am nothing, until I am no more

n.j.