Broken lines on subway walls, twisted dolls, and high noon cat calls This is the way I see life It is a micosm of our failed society, with a beaten down view on stained glass, shattered on the empty church floor begging us to pray over a God that we can't see or touch. Kneeling in front of the wooden church pews, with two bruised knees yelling out in pain our convictions into some sort of religious echo chamber of somber and remorse So, you want us to believe in what is real or what is not!!! What is this so called life you speak of? It sounds like a messed up Shakespeare tragedy A sad tragedy that surrounds every living soul like some God forsaken circus freak dressed up ******* in a clown suit A souless tragedy that beats down the door of our hearts then shreds it into tiny pieces, only to leave it on the ***** kitchen table to rot in front of us Yes, that so called life Its hard to imagine what I have seen what I touched, or what I have felt inside I cannot explain it in simple words, it's complicated It's more bad than good, destitute and diluted, forgotten and then deleted It has all become a tragic piece of me Why? Because I live it every single day, every single minute, every single second and every single breathe So, let that sink in. Just tragic in a way, tragically distorted mindless thoughts trapped in each one of us.