Concrete shell, trauma had tremendously taken its toll.

Conciousness severely severed, stirring, wishing for serenity.

Contortionist women, weaving already woven wires of self doubt.

Constantly humiliating himself for harmful handfuls of unreciprocated love.

Conditioned by past partners propaganda that he'll never be a perfect person.

Concealing every tear torn, from his overused tear ducts.

Conceding to the fact that he'd rather be hurt repeatedly, than risk roaming remote roads alone, too afraid to stand in his own reflection.