I walk forward trusting none but myself,

Yet I wonder how I can carry my march onwards,

When I’m already torn into pieces, barely recognizable

 

I can trust my devious heart,

I can trust my convoluted soul,

Or I can wallow in self-pity, steadfast in fear to decide

 

My heart promises everything I want, nay, everything I need

Yet every single time I put everything on the line,

I’m betrayed, torn apart with only a glimmer of hope to rebuild

 

A torn and battered path such of this may give happiness,

Yet I wonder, how can a single drop of joy be worth it,

When it is simply swallowed in a sea of agony and tears?

 

My soul’s purpose is to tear me apart constantly

Overflowing my chalice with no more

Than an overpowering debt of sorrow and hatred.

 

While it may help me rebuild every time I’m shattered,

How can I possibly trust a contractor

When even a small gust of wind will blow his house apart?

 

 

Choosing to do neither, I elect to deny everything,

Instead pitying my poor life, barely resisting

My self-destructive path to utter ruin.

 

Escaping reality constantly, refusing to be me,

Instead feeding my addiction to keep my sanity,

Yet still I wonder – is addiction really so bad, when it saves your life?