Medieval A Wilted Remnant
My skin bleeds grief,
The future seems a rotted ass,
self tormented,
The future seems a rotted ass.
I lie detached,
sorry for myself
Depression is my life.
Suffering at my own will,
a tool to overcome,
the long for your touch
A fragile shell,
a hairline crack,
border for insanity.
I hunt, thorn tears me apart
Driven Down Deep
I search,
an emotional response,
but come up short,
words to express,
need not be said,
The pain shows in my face,
My skin bleeds grief,
The future seems a rotted ass,
self tormented,
The future seems a rotted ass.
