Laying on the floor

reaching for the door

you are too sore

strength can’t

ever seem to be restored.

You scream

you cry

you roar

That you can’t take anymore

One, Two, Three, Four

One, Two, Three, Four

mind is always at a constant war.

 

You say you are better off dead

But  once it all turns black

after one too many prozacs

the moment you realized you succeeded and can’t take it back

*

Falling down a hole with no cracks

*

It’s dark

Not even your soul anymore has a spark

Day or night?

Nothings in site

Feel nothing at all

for once you are light

Yet something doesn’t feel quite right.

 

All alone: This isn’t how it was supposed to go

Your spirit was supposed to run free with the other ghosts

One, Two, Three, Four

One, Two, Three, Four

mind is always at a constant war.

-DF