I closed my eyes for the final time, or so I thought,
but god ****** me this morning, as my vision, the sun's rays caught.
We circle the days that we look forward to with invisible ink,
trigger finger, coping mechanism, drink this lead so you won't sink.
Imagine images colored all the same, pictured differently,
trying to take away the pain.
A mistake was made the day that I was claimed, revolving melodies,
that all just trade away.
Hope evolves, and then there's me not believing in evolution,
"clean up your life," but I'm just that forever pollution.
Life lives and death dies,
another day goes by and my existence is surprised.
Tempt with discovery, a new needle-tongued lie,
close my eyes, embrace the darkness, because tomorrow we will "survive."
Cling to the good, the best, maybe my childhood?
You'd think there'd be something there, a joy, a love, I wish I could.
Broad brush painting black thin lines,
Second-Hand clock retreating, trying its hardest to turn back time.
It's stuck, my luck, right here in the un-divine,
a holy disaster unfolds as this ball of yarn unwinds.
Mar 29, 2024
Mar 29, 2024 at 4:40 PM UTC
I closed my eyes for the final time, or so I thought,
but god ****** me this morning, as my vision, the sun's rays caught.
We circle the days that we look forward to with invisible ink,
trigger finger, coping mechanism, drink this lead so you won't sink.
Imagine images colored all the same, pictured differently,
trying to take away the pain.
A mistake was made the day that I was claimed, revolving melodies,
that all just trade away.
Hope evolves, and then there's me not believing in evolution,
"clean up your life," but I'm just that forever pollution.
Life lives and death dies,
another day goes by and my existence is surprised.
Tempt with discovery, a new needle-tongued lie,
close my eyes, embrace the darkness, because tomorrow we will "survive."
Cling to the good, the best, maybe my childhood?
You'd think there'd be something there, a joy, a love, I wish I could.
Broad brush painting black thin lines,
Second-Hand clock retreating, trying its hardest to turn back time.
It's stuck, my luck, right here in the un-divine,
a holy disaster unfolds as this ball of yarn unwinds.
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