Words don't come to me as easily as they once did
I've said it before
Said it before
said it before
Cynical echo sound away
So I erase, backspace, highlight and delete every syllable of love, fear, anxiety, I've lived through in this life
Smother my worth with worthlessness but I hope someone else feels they are worth it
That's my drive
Keeping a stranger alive another day, perhaps
Writing on a beach just to let my words wash away in the sand
Let myself soul drift out beyond the waves, but my body forgot to become drowned in the deep
where silence is the deadliest sound
and I've grown deaf
breathing but not alive
//reflection and nihilism//
I've concluded I'm a complex man
A honeycomb in a row of cubicles
Not meant for... this