When does the life we call a blessing,
Turn into something more than a sin we're confessing?
Lost all hope,
Unwilling to continue trying to cope.
Pain is now an emotion,
Making me wish for a higher sense of devotion.
Love is a disaster,
Makes me wish this all could be over faster.
In time I could be better,
But I'm running out of time.
The sun looks down on me with disgust,
Knowing I can never shine as bright as I must.
What am I feeling?
Like my threshold for patience has reached it's ceiling.
Hope...man, that's a far thought.
So far away that I'm sitting down wallowing in how I'm distraught.
There's beauty in every scar,
Every battle,
Or lost,
Is a battle that makes me myself,
At what cost?

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