You’ve been barely living on the shelf
I know cause I once lived there myself,
denying and depriving my state of health
and doing it all while dwindling my wealth.

Many times closed the door but never turned the lock,
freeze right down to my core when there would come a knock

A broken heart
in a broken house
in the perfect dark
no one stirring but a dying mouse.
A broken spine
in a broken shell
atleast this body’s mine
I feel I’ve earned this hell

I’ve been praying for any release
or even a small hint of some relief.
It’s starting to get hard to even keep
my head above water; continue moving my feet.

I begin to see the days; how they fade away
if I’d have known I would never have shown
my critique of their shade of grey.

A broken heart
in a broken house,
both’s been ripped apart
and the flames I’ll douse.
A broken spine
in a broken shell,
I won’t say I’m fine
I won’t claim I’m swell.

I swear I’m just like the Sydney Kormoran,
peaceful illusion gliding upon the open seas.
But underneath the exterior there’s a devious plan,
you’ll be catching strays, with each blow of the breeze.
History can’t always be a pleasure cruise
sometimes it’s just a collision course,
there’s no such thing as a fair way to lose
when you’re on foot and they’re on horse.

Atleast there’s this sad sick satisfaction
that if we lost the good atleast the bad went down.
It was as unplanned as any spontaneous ****** action,
that both battleships sunk instead to where they were bound.

If there’s a story to learn besides making sure history doesn’t repeat,
it’s to keep an eye on whoever’s passing near.
They could be a savior, an angel, a liar or a cheat
but rule of thumb is to make your signal letters clear.