Angels plummet from the sky above in blistering inferno
ashes shower the ground and all those that stand below
nothing but specks of dust decayed from their internal depravity
What have I got? Naught but my own precious mortality
Am I losing my mind? Am I going insane?
what the f(u)ck is going on inside of my brain?
slipping betwixt clenched fingers are the tattered remains
along with the past memories, of that which I'll never regain
The irony? That I treasure most that which I can't control
My own life tried once before, and will inevitably swallow me whole
My shoulders have borne the burden for oh so long...
they bow and they break, yet I continue to walk on
