A combination of faulty letters Creating stumbly words of disproportion In attempt to adequately portray the way I'm feeling When the reality is No number of malnourished thoughts Can manifest into what can only be described as circumstantial emotions On a blank canvas Splattered in blood. Because there comes a time When my perturbation over this life overcomes the sentiment of warmth in this frigid wasteland we like to pretend is okay And nobody looks back as they press on To see me in my weakened state Until my legs won't continue to proceed And I'm obliged to stop But I would have done it voluntarily because I can no longer remember what coerced me here to begin with. As my eyes begin to close, I await the familiar dream of tomorrow, But it never comes.