Poetry, One-Shots, and Song Lyrics

Bird Cage

My head is pressing in on me.
I've been dreaming of a time that would be better,
but perfectionism disagrees.
I'm so empty, and the problem is
that I can hardly ever read.
I'm so distracted, and the pain inside my brain
and in my spine'll cost a mighty fee.
There's not much left inside of me,
I'm honestly, a broken part
of what is left of my entirety.
I'm pining for success,
when I won't feel it in my chest,
I need more time, I need a rest,
but it won't fill this empty nest
inside my soul, I won't let go,
I need to find more distant hope,
but once I know that things are looking up,
my thoughts will stay real low.
I don't where to turn to - I'm running from myself.
I don't know where to get my help.
My seconds fell to minutes,
flashed and burned until they're finished,
rinse, repeat, I keep my feet pressed to the ground,
and I'll admit that it's a waste of borrowed time.