Such a cliché
When they begin to say
That the littlest tears can create an entire sea.
Four days unfound,
And four months beyond
Control over any semblance of sleep and sanity.
This is not what I had planned
for me.
My shoes are torn,
Clothes, over-worn,
Soaked like the sea in wet, wet salt.
This is how it ends
When you make amends;
Is this how it screeches my bones to a halt?
Is it all, like you say,
all my fucking fault?
Then tell me now,
Where are my shooting stars?
Those pretty lights descending on you all
Promises and wishes that are due to fall?
Are they coming here at all?
So tell me now,
Where are my pieces of gold?
That big red button to end it all,
With only my skin to stop my fall.
It was never mine at all.
I refuse to believe,
I deny every word,
So you watch me waste away,
These swollen words unheard.
I'm running too fast.
I'm not fast enough.
Look, look closer,
Look at the ground open up.
I said look, look closer, to the ground opening up.
*Title taken from lyrics of MUTEMATH song, Stall Out.
Thank you for the inspiring music.*
