My heart become expendable,
Used up to and past the point of being dependable
I have no use except as a pin cushion for all your anger.
My expiration date has long passed overdue and
yet here I am, with my heart falling to pieces,
struggling to pick up the shambles,
my mind a lightning storm as I scramble
to make sense of this deep and eerie sadness.
What can I do to relieve myself of this anxiety
this pain this death,
there are no solutions left
only one question left to ponder.
When did I become your fool?