i'm writing on the backs of broken dreams
hows and whys echo, they're my screams
you see, it's been weeks, months, and all of these things
your promises, your smiles and all they mean
are so indefinable, yes they're blurred to me
and i want so hard so much to believe
that  with everything you were unsure of
you were still so sure of me
that you just couldn't admit it
that you wouldn't just give up and quit it
that you couldn't believe everything you were saying
that doubting is as easy to you as praying
is becoming hard for me
because when i look up
it's nearly impossible to see a grander plan
its like
my belief in God is nearly as strong as my belief in man
but my belief in how good he is
is shaking, nearly breaking, even making
me indescribably angry
because
if he was good how could he do this to me
how much pain can really have a happy ending
how much must i brave
how close must i come to the point where i would cave
to see the beauty in the blade
i feel cascading through me
leaving a hole so deep
that when i look through it
i don't see thin air, i wish for a bullet
a single one and the gall to use it
the end this, because i'm sick of it
i do not want to just exist
if this for me is all there is
if i among all of these cannot live
oh, but i wish sometimes that i could do it
but every time i indulge in the images i just know it
i am spineless, that i am alive will show it
that ,
and that i keep my promises