Often times my world is dull
I see a bitter end
The shadows in my thoughts will lull
My heart to sleep again
I cannot touch reality,
Or I reach in too far?
This broken world has shattered me.
For, I am but a scar.
Each time, I heal over the wound,
Yet still you know I've suffered.
And day by day I know that soon . . .
I'll seep into my slumber.
A bird with two insecure wings,
A child with a stutter.
I'm nothing in this old routine,
And all I do is wonder . . .
At 5a.m. will Jesus help me?
Will Bible verses soothe?
Will tears stream down my lonely face,
And tell me what to do?
Should I seek help and let them down,
Or should I fear the next?
When will I have hurt so much,
I have to kill what's left?
Often times my brain is numb,
I've killed it with each bottle.
I string together memories,
The blanks for Aristotle.
Please help me, for I am so ill
I struggle with the fear.
I'm scared to hit another low.
I sweat as it comes near . . .
