aphasic,
A morose way of existing,
Maybe agony looks rather stunning in the right lighting,
And these melancholy dreams,
They seemed so sweet when I was desperate to sleep,
Molded by disinterest,
Tell me what's the point,
You've shown me all your finest goods,
But they don't amuse me the way they did before.
So my back begins to break,
Carrying all this weight,
And wonder what they'll think,
When I no longer show up to stand in my place,
In their lives like I did each day to day
What's the use in comparing feelings,
When feelings are fleeting,
Eyes are hidden when they're shut,
So what's the point in trying to see,
The bigger picture when it's out of frame,
To view the source is a sin,
So I adore the pain.