Three hundred and sixty five days.

Eyes dump buckets of shapeless fluid,
Onto the surface, attempting to break free.
Emotions lay upon puddles on the side streets,
As passers by jump and splash the pain all over.
It has been three hundred and sixty five days of rain,
Dawn to dusk, the clouds never cease crying.

Hiding behind a security guard, attempting to block the cold night drought,
Hands latch tight to the remaining reminder, the only thing left.
Mind swings in and out of consciousness, in and out of doze,
Monsters pick and nibble at thoughts running ramped inside, I can't escape.
I have endured three hundred and sixty five sleepless nights,
Of the moonlight beaming onto my frail face and not even the stars can brighten the darkness.

Staring into emptiness, I step back into the past,
Where everything was perfect, even the flowers blossomed under the summer sun.
Black marks against my name will never fade, the mistakes,
Continue to dampen the days where all I think about is how much I screwed up my chance at the game.
I have sacrificed three hundred and sixty five days of hoping for another chance,
That maybe one day I will be good enough to be your girl once more.

Words create a surreal picture in my head, one of
Times I would crave to return to; times I were someone else.
A pen scribes emotions and dealing from within,
Still, they are too complex to crack the code to why I have let this go on for so long.
Three hundred and sixty five letters written to you, my lover, hide and
Gather up dust on the shelves, waiting for a chance to be heard clearly.

Skimming over lands of broken down nature, the
Structure has been altered, inside it is still a danger zone.
Fists and teeth clench in destruction, the determination
Does not back off in the final rounds - I need my head to rise above.
Heads pounds to three hundred and sixty five bouts of anger and despair,
Trying to understand to cracks that are destroying my human sense.

Snap lock the memories of the past, freeze dry ad
Store them in mind for the days of misery and heartache.
Trapped by my own means, I have the power to let free,
But the damage has been done, I won't escape unscathed.
Three hundred and sixty five lonely days have passes, yet it feels like an
Eternity has spun around my stomach, making me ill.