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on edge
Days like today expose Hell to be on Earth.
Curse my title in solitary confinement.
As I rottenly question my well-being.
What good is the soul dead if the heart has never lived?
What good is the heart living if the soul won’t stop beating?
Time and time again,
I pinched at the nerves, which caused weakness.
I stitched up the wounds, which induced callousness.
I covered up the scars, which triggered blindness.
I absorbed baseless fragments of my true self as I secretly pry through.
So let the sun reign over my prayers as the rain burns away at my trespassers.
© All Rights Reserved
Curse my title in solitary confinement.
As I rottenly question my well-being.
What good is the soul dead if the heart has never lived?
What good is the heart living if the soul won’t stop beating?
Time and time again,
I pinched at the nerves, which caused weakness.
I stitched up the wounds, which induced callousness.
I covered up the scars, which triggered blindness.
I absorbed baseless fragments of my true self as I secretly pry through.
So let the sun reign over my prayers as the rain burns away at my trespassers.
© All Rights Reserved
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