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The sweet treat of mental defeat
I can't imagine having a mind like yours. The walls are weak like jelly falling at the slightest breeze.
An inconvenience just like a small sneeze and everything comes apart. Your brain and your heart tied foolishly together.
"everything is going wrong" you declare melting down quicker than chocolate in the sun.
"Everything is going wrong" you weep failing to appreciate context and subtle clues.
Detective you are not. Protective even less. of your self and your soul. Mental fortitude non-existent from the recipe that makes you you.
God how I would hate to crumble like a delicate cookie. Hard on the outside but small pressure from life's bite breaking you apart.
Alas I am surrounded by you. Trained by you. To believe the world is an oven. Cooking me outside in.
Raised to sin. Raised to blame. But now my cake will rise. A tough outer shell and solid inside. A hard candy that will only ever melt.
I protect myself from the world, and from you. Your bitter-sweet love leaving stained teeth and after-taste.
I wish you well for all that you do. But I know for now your weak soul will perish.
© Swiftonic Poetry
An inconvenience just like a small sneeze and everything comes apart. Your brain and your heart tied foolishly together.
"everything is going wrong" you declare melting down quicker than chocolate in the sun.
"Everything is going wrong" you weep failing to appreciate context and subtle clues.
Detective you are not. Protective even less. of your self and your soul. Mental fortitude non-existent from the recipe that makes you you.
God how I would hate to crumble like a delicate cookie. Hard on the outside but small pressure from life's bite breaking you apart.
Alas I am surrounded by you. Trained by you. To believe the world is an oven. Cooking me outside in.
Raised to sin. Raised to blame. But now my cake will rise. A tough outer shell and solid inside. A hard candy that will only ever melt.
I protect myself from the world, and from you. Your bitter-sweet love leaving stained teeth and after-taste.
I wish you well for all that you do. But I know for now your weak soul will perish.
© Swiftonic Poetry
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