Like faded photos. Home movies in your head. Their theme
Of self-defeating. With insides peeling. A spineless mass
Without a shell. To have always known this feeling well.
The more you want it. The more you slip away. This theme
Of quick retreating. With insides screaming. Through
Sleepless nights an endless hell. To have always known
This feeling. Still so self-aware. While you fight for
Some light through the gloom. The boy is still there.
Alone on his bed in his room. Just laugh at yourself.
With thoughts this would somehow be. So damn easy. To
Have been down there. And remained sane. To choke for
Some air. And drown in rain. To have always been down
There