There goes my mind, snapping like an elastic lifeline
over a sea of daggers.
Waiting on words like waiting on fuses
to be no more, in hopes the explosion won't **** my so-called pride.
...Whatever is left of it.
This isn't the first time.
Knowing my luck, it won't be the last time my hope relied on the sympathies of a bomb.
And wouldn't you know that bombs are unsympathetic?
I'm wasting away here, as I have been for years.
Enduring bombardments with every day, more and more of myself blown away.
I just hope when my day comes, I'm not too damaged.
...If my day comes.
...Will it come?
My heart: already nearly gone.
My face: atrophied to deaden all emotion.
Am I worth anything anymore?
So much blasted away,
day after day,
I only recognize myself
by my scars,
the craters,
like torn earth.
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 3:05 PM UTC
There goes my mind, snapping like an elastic lifeline
over a sea of daggers.
Waiting on words like waiting on fuses
to be no more, in hopes the explosion won't **** my so-called pride.
...Whatever is left of it.
This isn't the first time.
Knowing my luck, it won't be the last time my hope relied on the sympathies of a bomb.
And wouldn't you know that bombs are unsympathetic?
I'm wasting away here, as I have been for years.
Enduring bombardments with every day, more and more of myself blown away.
I just hope when my day comes, I'm not too damaged.
...If my day comes.
...Will it come?
My heart: already nearly gone.
My face: atrophied to deaden all emotion.
Am I worth anything anymore?
So much blasted away,
day after day,
I only recognize myself
by my scars,
the craters,
like torn earth.