No Cure

As I toil in darkness,
Evanescence won’t be long.
Lost in these shells of madness.
Sold myself short until I was gone.
Drowned by these wretched waves.
Shallow emotions can’t be raised.
Fixation has become my sentence.
Every moment born horrendous.

With a mind made of glass.
No longer holding a free pass.
Gut me!

Pulverized by my own mentions.
Separated as if I’m meant to repent.
Gripped by a lack of intentions.
My fuel is long since spent.
As wire wings hold my form.
I am no longer airbourne.
Just a husk left to rot.
Soon all I had will be forgot.

With a mind made of glass.
No longer holding a free pass.
Gut me
See me twitch.
Bleed from inside.
No curing my glitch.

With a mind made of glass.
No longer holding a free pass.