When I wake up I’m still tripping,
Not on substances but chemicals.
I walk through the days just to hear voices,
Not from people I know
But from a place that I should call home.
My mind is a mansion but I’m stuck in a room.
The pictures on the wall are blood red,
Is that from my bleeding heart or distrust?
Everyday is just another step to nowhere,
So what’s the point?
I’m a prisoner to my own thoughts
Fortifying my mansion to the world,
Bleeding to death from the wounds I’ve earned
So please save me from my self inflicted curse
- Author: Ethan Daniel ( Offline)
- Published: August 4th, 2020 21:23
- Category: Sad
- Views: 47