Ive become so withered and weathered and im only held together by hope that is receding like the sun,
and if the night presents such bleak darkness ill wlecome it hardly open heartedly, because its the part of me that vaguely feels anything.
Run down, broken, helpless, hopless, peg me one or all above ive become the equivalent of every song i wrote down and never sung, thats useless undone.
Ive never caught a break but i catch myself breaking,
at shear thought of anything changing,
like im destined to live half-filled hopes and relive broken dreams it seems that im unraveling at the seams, and the garments i reap are the same ones ive sewen,
if guilt is grown then ive made a garden of my own, ive dirtied up these hands, but these idle hands haven’t touched palm to palm in far too long to rewrite all these wrongs,
these mistakes are chiseled in bone and in flesh,
just allow me to confess the sins that weigh like a anchor on my chest.
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