My soul cries tears my body has forgotten.
When do I get my chance? When do I get what should be allowed to me? I'm sick I feel like I've lost everything. This is familiar ground, a path well tread upon. I'm swallowed inside of this cocoon that's refused to open for centuries. This rotted home too tight to shift in has bound me like relentless black ribbons over a tightly sealed box. I can't fight myself though it's myself who beats me. I've bruised my heart repeatedly and the bleeding hasn't stopped yet. I can't stop myself I continue. I won't be finished until it's collapsed and can't even struggle to go on. What a metaphor for my every waking moment. Sour dreams prevail inside my head I cannot keep them out; preoccupied by the demanding job of self abuse. Your timeless wheels that have sustained far too long in the shadows must be broken, the spokes ripped from inside of you. I can't stand the sound of your rusted axles. My body dragging behind you for so long I can't remember the feeling of stillness.
Let me be.
Let me be.