I dance through the wreckage,
making friends with the dark.
Is this some kind of death wish?
Or is it a call to arms?

Because all of a sudden,
indulgence became defeat.
Hitting that self destruct button
shouldn't have tasted so sweet.

But sweet turned sour
and it wasn't too long a while
until I begged the dead for some answers ,
choking down a pity party with my bile.

Why is there a crack in my humanity?
And why wont the fucking pieces fit?
They say, "Welcome to paramount insanity,
life is no longer yours to live."
© ramblingneurotic