Falling out of love,
a lot like falling in.
Quiet desperation,
soul worn oh so thin.
Restless nights,
one sided fights,
battles you cant win.
Don't what to say,
or what to do,
only acting,
like a fool.
Such perilous parallels.
Life is too short,
to worry about anything.
Gone as dust in the wind.
No matter what we do,
we can never win.
Destiny is a farce.
A sham.
A cruel lie built to deceive.
Life is what we make it.
And I have made mine.
Made it tragedy.
Made it pain.
Made it sorrow.
Made it nothing.
And yet,
I still don't care.
Can't eat,
can't sleep,
can't read,
can't write.
I can do nothing
but let,
this slow life wane.
