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Bleak and somewhat opaque to my own oblivious nature
I ponder the point of a studdering progression
Making false starts into this foray we call living
Holding onto existence like some prized possession
What destination awaits this husk
Does the dread I feel at eyes opening to day mean weakness
Or a sense of understanding my own regression
Stealing such joy as a false reality can hold
Pretending I love your laugh to create a desired impression
Watching a bright future become dusk
Making small talk, smaller with lies
Taking the time, but avoiding your eyes
Accept in my mind what emotion denies
Playing along as my love for you dies
Knowing its over…..yet part of me tries
The other part cries
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I honestly have no Idea why that freakin' chair made me so sad
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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