| Its not depression, its not a lack of dedication. Its just, what I thought was carrying out the fight, turned out to not be enough to make it through the night. I guess I have slipped away from myself. Lost in my vision that became a tunnel. I stood alone, low and behold, I'm millions miles away from my body that is stoned. Holding a rope in the midst of tug o war from the middle. Jerked and pulled from side to side, fingers slipping, flesh dripping from the bone, the skin is broken and I bleed. These nerve endings I just can't kill. They said I don't belong, compared to them, they are weak and I am strong. In their eyes I see, propaganda and hidden agenda's, nothing I care to partake in. I guess you're trying to say something, an old blind and broken man like me, can't see. If there ever was a time I could have closed my eyes and just drifted away and died. I would do nothing but shut them tight, pray a quick prayer, and slip off into death, this, is no lie. Here I am now still, this burning inside, I can't escape the pressures of life. But one day, like all of us, I shall, until that day comes, these lonesome feelings I will try to kill. |
