Weakness stares from the mirror,
Sad,
Sunken,
Rubbed out, eyes
Dissecting every move
Judging
Me, my thoughts
How do I know you?
This drunken dance of fate
Of chance
Of doom
A ritual
A ceremony
A sacrament
A habit…
A chance conversation with the one reality that does not escape me
Cue the tears the terrors the trembling hands,
Razors make no noise
Bent to break and sick in the soul
This burden is sure to take its toll
It’s the light,
Now I see
It’s the light that reflects this soul
Turn down
Turn out this light
Take away this burden
This tired
This troubled soul
Take away this being
This thing
This me