Pitifully shuffling into a pointless destination
Trembling limbs stained grey from old habits
My purpose of life is decaying, following a map with no lines
Speaking with  liquid eyes, unable to face  the truth
These walls are so bare, our bed is stamped with your smell
Sleep has become minuscule and when it does come the dreams rattle me so
I'm lacking oxygen and I could give a ****
The smell of jasmine will not escape my nose
Everyday is a scar and you're just a ghost  that haunts my spirit
I'm back to my bottom shelf selection
You're cordially invited to my scrutinize my demise