It

No longer important. It's been cast aside.

Told it's still needed.

Yet months must it bide.

Then it's uncertain that anything will change.

Yet it decides to linger.

Isn't that strange?

No desire to be really.

Feelings don't matter.

Loved today. Tomorrow brains splattered.

It's desperate to believe,

That which it's told

Yet being pushed aside quickly gets old.

Knowing not should it stay or leave this place.

Believe in something or blow off its face.

Feeling itself slip downward the slope.

Begging it's wrong.

That there's still hope.

It can't take the pressure.

The pain exceeds the methods to cope.

And so here I hang, feet dangling from this rope.

.