The shrine I hold all the important people in my life is beginning to crumble, piece by piece.

All the pedestals are falling and I don’t have enough strength to catch them before they shatter:

The destruction around me is a distraction of the real pain I hold inside.

You see, as I watch my once priceless possessions begin to break and fall apart, I am the one that’s breaking and falling apart.

It’s like I am trying to seek help with duct tape over my mouth and my hands bound behind my back, chained to the floor of my inner mind.

When my shrine is in rumbles, here I’ll lay in the middle of the mess, unmoving and hopeless.