You must know one thing....

Pining for those that hurt you the most
longing for those that cut you the worst
missing the ones that hit you the hardest
giving your heart to those that are heartless
does not sound healthy
actions that could make one sick
but reading the words on the page
rather than seeing them play out
sounds exactly like what I am doing as well
FUCK.


And I wish it was as easy as it seems
to turn and cut
but my feet are like quicksand
my heart is sullen
and my drive for who I was is nonexistent
truthfully my core shakes at the reality that is
I could not define love with a pistol in my mouth
it has eluded me
my core has eroded to desolate
my charm has housed the hue of patina copper
"and I cant find my way home..."