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