A life with no zest
Taste has been iced
Sight is no longer realized
All I hear is scratches and fakes
Smelling the rot coming from my core
In denial of the truth
Cause with fatigue, moving is a chore
Inside a pit of poets, I stand out
Raw and unfiltered to show my situation is dire
Going out for parties bring no satisfaction
When waking up is a chore, how can I live past tomorrow?
If I could find the source
I would stick it
But when the hemispheres lie on opposite ends
How can I function with a malfunction?