Hello old friend...
Across from me he sits, fixed, his cold gaze like a winters reflection
No sun, no motion, just done
I'm not even sure he's capable of emotion
And the real man inside, he's seen by no one
Except me, I see...
I see a semi good looking, moderately attractive man
Doing the best he can to get out of **** it and I don't give a **** land
Trying to hide the brand of a misfit that's been burnt into his hand
Before it gets out of hand
Not even sure if I can, I mean he can, I mean we can
Change the plan enough to rage the river and bust through the dam
The whole things a sham
The t-top trans am and all the glam
Just put into place to hide who I really am
I mean, who he really is, I mean who we really are
He's gone to far in the wrong direction, he's lost the farm
He didn't see the harm in projecting his charm
How could he have known that presenting a false hand would lead to the loss of an arm
Maybe he thought it a false alarm
Maybe he couldn't see the danger through the swarm
Or maybe, just maybe, it was to loud between his ears to hear, confused the warning siren for a victory horn
Now the fire inside is a flicker, the passion for life only luke warm
And he's worn a grove in the floor as he passes, fighting with the desire to have never been born
Feeling like a child from under the stairs or of the corn
Forced to adorn a smile he's worn just to hide the scorn
Being ****** by life to the brink of death, almost a ***** ****
Sworn in my the devil, when the sediment settles no one will mourn
His dreams ripped from his hands, left alone to weather the storm
Cold and frightened, not even a recognizable life form
Torn between being himself or having to conform
The norm unattainable like a hunt for a unicorn
So he gave up, and who could blame him
A Titanic adventure, sink or swim, the chance of survival slim
The future grim, on unlevel ground, in need of a shim
His life a synonym for the darkness within
Told over and over again that it's up to him
Up to him to make a better life but where to begin
His light goes dim as he recalls a hymn
That use to give him hope but now it's like a dead limb
Useless as a possums survival mechanism
He looks directly in my eyes while I listen
Almost begging for advise but there's non to be given
What would you say to me? I mean, what would you say to him?

©2018

𝙸𝚗𝚔 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚜,
𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚏-𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚍
𝙿𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜;
𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚝.

⌨

𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝.

What’s the point
What’s the point of confessing
What’s the point of being open
What’s the point of letting people in

I’ve started to question
Why I even bother trying
Letting people in my head
Just to be let down and forgotten

What’s the point of caring
When all you get in return
Is a cold shoulder
Or completely ignored

What’s the point of attraction
If all it leads to is suffering
What’s the point of it all
When you will just be tossed aside

What’s the point
Of wearing your heart on your sleeve
When all that will happen
Is it being tossed into the dirt

Crushed under the weight of abandonment
Lost in the waves of forgotten-ness
Possessed by the need to be seen
Yet forever be ignored by the one who holds it

It doesn’t matter anymore
But it still hurts badly
I have **** off my emotions
But the damage has already been done

Shattered remains of a once caring heart
Lay broken across this scarred flesh
A reminder that caring for another
Will only lead to pain and anguish

So from now on
I will no longer care
I will no longer fight
I will no longer love

I will keep to myself
I will seal off my heart
No one deserves it
Not anymore