I'm yearning
for more
of your misery
to feed off,

salivating
to taste
your sorrows,

glorifying
your sinful scars,

crawling
to catch your soul
while
you brush it off
as you overdose.

rotten souls
burried cries
morbid smiles
living in agony
of a so called
better future
shaped as a
coffin
that traps your
last hope of
freedom

what have i become. .
what have you made of me, mother?
what have you sculpted, brother?

carved to perfection,
into an ivory soulless wreck,
a hopeless mess, high off morbidity and agony,

carved to perfection,
to attend to your lavish needs,
of a stripped youth,
hidden under a blood stained carpet floor,

and you do it so lovingly,
as i reach for air,
when you've buried me
six feet under.

do you know how you live
when the worst has happened
you have no expectations,
no wants or needs,
you become confined in your own misery,
feeding off the scars you left scattered in your bathroom floor

your only viable option,
will be letting go,
your best option,
is
laying
six feet under.