no one loves me
but they claim they care
if they really did wouldn't they see

i am falling apart
fragile to the touch
yet they keep on pushing me

closer to the edge
and they think i can take more
so they push farther till i'm at the brink

it's like they know i can't swim
but they are going overboard
and they'll be suprised when i sink

i felt your hand wrapped around my arm
it was dark
you didn't know it was me
but all i could think about
was that it was you

a hand of circular motion
will turn and turn without promotion
a notion of loyalty unbreaking a sure one
but also forgiving will never occur

boxed up bottles full of glass
a burn from plastic flames of past
a cast doesnt mean that broken pieces should last
for the renewal will never occur

fearsome dearsome and doleful
a spur of the moment decision thats hopeful
a bowl full of concepts berating an old soul
but also the meal will never occur

a hungry and mangled existence
a hurt that never heals, for instance
a distance doesnt make you a witness
for the pain has never occurred

my body and soul in a boxers ring
the ref has been shot, throttled, and kinged
compliant to no one, inside is a known run
yet all parties here are the foe
are the loser the liar and lo--
the body is violent.
the audience: god, and they sit there silent.
soul socked, blocked, and bruised, he shivers to quiet
and body, it staggers and quivers in triumph
but it shakes and it cries because its eyes are mine
for a fire inside
does not inspire
but burns and hollows to rinds

soul, he delivers a blind hit.
in stride and in mind, an inmate of wildness.
of trial-less, unending, childish depending, spiraling slightly askew

and of tiredness.

the soul, he kneels, and body, it keels
the ref has revived and is quick to the meal
she tears apart body and dips into soul

there's only one answer
as god keeps their hands still
no matter the way that it's told.