These Wings Aren't Meant To Be Torn Off

If they only knew my purpose was only to hit fists and get bruises underneath my skin.
I've had times where I've struggled to breathe with my face being pressed down the sink.
There was never a time where I've had my hand helped out of being drowned, I guess I'm too far down.
Don't worry, I'm not limping anymore, that was torn off miles ago, chasing after a little more hope.
I'm falling apart, piece by piece, I've fought so much I don't think I have much of a face then a personality.
Being pushed off a cliff is supposed to kill you, but to my own luck i lived through that too.
A bandage can't heal the inside, but I guess the outside needs attention first.
I can't tell you how long this will remain, fighting for my life, but it will end in your eyes, this journal running out of pages.
Once I reach a mile post, theres always one more ahead of me, I've seemed to ignore that my lungs have already collapsed.
I'm ready to pass out and wait to wake up, but then again, for my luck I still have to be contentious through each scar I receive eternally.
I never wanted to fight, but no one else would, no one else would go that extra mile, and now I'm fighting more than one battle.
My heart beats slowly, and it isn't getting any faster, I have no energy to run, but somewhere I'm pulling that off myself.
This could be better than death, but I've never wanted to tell someone a lie, I've thought it would of been a better decision.
I'm fighting for people that's not around, and every step that destiny takes me, I hope one day I find peace waiting to make a treaty with my heart