Beat me ‘til I’m beaten,
Tread across my heart,
Need not to worry it was already torn apart.
Bled for days, I’m still alive,
Though not in a way most know,
More like a breathing death that continues to grow.
Do what you will; the pain hurts no more.
It’s a part of my life now; feel free to pick the sores.
I wish things were better,
But no time to hope for false goals,
Never one to fantasize the impossible possibility
Of healing my soul…