Over

I’m watching the clock as the hand strikes two.
No matter what I try I can’t slip away from you.
Your embrace is so peaceful just like your voice.
Whatever you do never ask me to make a choice,
Between your company and being out on the street.
After all we both know which one will beat.
For being in public surrounded by drones.
I can’t think of much worse unless I have headphones.

Ignite a fire deep from within my weak chest.
One last time I feel the button should be pressed.
Risk everything and hope I do not falter.
If I do the truth is I may choke here.
Be left of my own with no one to smile with.
Damned to be forgotten without chance to forgive,
Deeds that I have written in permanent pen.
The sort that haunt when they come back round again.

Picture my rotting form perched up on a cliff.
Not as I was in youth, holding a spliff.
Sadly times have changed and become much harder.
No longer can I raid my parents stocked larder.
Rather I must fight for every breath I now take.
All while the ‘innocent’ claim I’m a mistake.
But who are they to have derailed my future?
For they are the ones who handed me the Sambuca.

Wallowing in a pile surrounded by sadness.
Thoughts in my head continuing madness.
Spinning around tormenting my every waking moment.
Dreaming up a brand new overpowered opponent.
Built to compound suffering upon my form.
Almost as though i should just conform.
But when I did I lost all that I loved.
Would’ve been quicker if off a bridge I’d been shoved.