Ice

I don't believe I'm crying,
I think its just mist in the air,
I feel like fingers of ice,
Frosted with contempt.

I can’t see how,
This is all meant to be good,
Disillusioned by the illusionist,
Doesn’t seem to be real.

I'll just try to survive though this,
Wonder whats gonna be at the end,
A faint forgiving silence,
A distant hopeful sigh.

It's like a memory,
A faint tingling of joyful times,
But so distant I can’t see,
And it’s gone and made no sense.

I'm not sure its happening,
Doesn’t really seem to be there,
I think the mirrors fading,
And a picture is shown clear.

It seems like it’s a wonder,
But really it feels just fake,
It’s born yet anew,
And fading faster still.

I'm not sure this concept fits,
But it seems to be the only one on hand,
And it seems to want to amount,
To something more than dust.

I'm fighting a battle,
And guess what it’s against?
The emotions trying to pull me down,
Drown me in a lie of happy tidings.

A soft merciful end,
A distant cry for help,
A shallow mourning cry,
And a hollow promise of joy.