*Like a pen running out of ink
I am slowly fading
Into the coffin that is my dying mind.
Im not sure when i started fading.
I just know it has built
Over years of hurt
Pain
Suffering
Im almost gone
I can feel myself slipping
To a never ending wasteland
That is this crazy world we call our home
Until one day death takes its toll
And we all disappear
Never to be heard from
Talked about
Or thought of
Again..*
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
*Like a pen running out of ink
I am slowly fading
Into the coffin that is my dying mind.
Im not sure when i started fading.
I just know it has built
Over years of hurt
Pain
Suffering
Im almost gone
I can feel myself slipping
To a never ending wasteland
That is this crazy world we call our home
Until one day death takes its toll
And we all disappear
Never to be heard from
Talked about
Or thought of
Again..*
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