The visceral memories of pain are incredible
So vivid and cutting
Laughter and joy are forgotten within seconds
But the tears that rain and the scars that form are unforgettable
Trying to fall asleep just to forget it all
But the vivid imagery of your dreams makes it impossible
And there are no more answers left to find
Hell, you’ve tried
At the bottom of a bottle or at the end of the line
Praying to a God that you've fought so hard to believe in
In the hope he provides a guiding light
But it turns out he’s always busy playing make believe
How funny, how convenient
If it was anyone else, they’d be described as deviant
Because what “saviour” abandons those in their moment of need?
Not one that I believe in
Not someone I've yet to see