Whatever is left of me,
if you can remember anything
I've ever said,
down any path I've ever
led you, or
wherever you've led me,
if you can see me,
I'm free now,
for this world that is
always taking.

There's no need to lie to me,
there's no need to comfort this
dying fool who
wasted his time, pining in his
prime for a
chance
he knew
would never come.
After all, this
misery was by
design, to save the one
I love.
It's over now, I'm giving up.

I don't want your
sympathy, your
thoughts or your
prayers.
I wish I could illustrate
what I've won from this dare.
How do you
describe something
that isn't
there?
I lean on the hope that
what's left of me,
you'll share.

I took
so
much
effort
bleeding out this
place,
I've
emptied every coffer,
every altar
defaced.
I
scraped
away
the pretty paint
looking for the
matter,
and there it was,
this emptiness, getting fatter.

Now I sink in,
once again,
to this bog
I've been
stuck in,
struggled in,
woke up in,
fell asleep in,
dreamed in,
broke free in,
feared in,
**** and ****** in,
got cleaned in,
once again,
it takes me under.