Your heart pounds matching
the tempo of your fist
Slamming your floor
Soaked with swear, tears, and blood
As an empty feeling fills you up
And you realize that your serve
no other purpose than that of Shaking in midair
Or holding yourself together as
you slowly fall apart
The clock blinks 12 and
It's redundancy reflects the thought
That keeps spinning around in your head
The last good thing in your life
Just left and the shades are drawn
reminding you that your heart shall
Now be wrapped in stone
A tight cover which holds firm against
The wicked ways of outside variables
No use for your feelings so
wear them on your sleeve hoping
that maybe someone will notice
and on that occasion you might
be able to break a smile and laugh
 
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