I’m very aware of how quiet the world rests

I’m very aware of how soft all my excuses feel

I’m painfully aware of how behind schedule i remain

And even more aware that i’m making my way back all the much harder

I know. And yet I maintain.

IS it some fault of my own that I self-destruct and tend towards some form of death?

Is it some rebellion of my own for abstaining against the death I truly crave?

Is it all in my head and my fault?

Who am I kidding?

I am very aware that it is and is.

And for some reason I crave it.

I’m very aware of how quiet the world rests

It’s easy to hear over the riot of my own soul

It’s easy to see in their empathy as they gaze from above

It’s easy to know from the concern they offer and the pain that provides

Oh to be rescued by the ropes lowered by the world and its saints

Instead of hung in their attempt