Uncomfortable truth.

A broken molde is waiting

for the soul to stop breaking

"I don't know what you're looking for", it says.

I don't know who you are, thinks.

You are a murderer of dreams

to comfortable in your delusions

what a dysfunctional team,

body and mind are in destruction.

It hurts how gray you are in your mind

when the mirror screams what you don't like

you promise to heal the wounded brain

but you can't get the demon away.

I’m disappointed on your closure

oh well, sorry you don't have one

such a pity the amount of pressure

put on your shoulders to be no one.

The permanent solution is in your head,

the poison is trying to get ahead

to your pure feelings, almost dying

the sorrow is your companion, is always there hiding.

What a disgraceful present

the past was expecting more

But now the future is resent

now I don't want to be you anymore.