Why I still feel when I'm dead within,
This sense of failure haunting still
I cannot understand.
The sinking sun falls into the darkness and
the child inside whimpers, with silent cry
I don't want to be alone...again.
And I wonder how it got this far,
Was there some poison within the air?
Or was it just a thorn
inside when I was born,
Cutting a deeper wound as I grew.
Depression spreading, from the infection
Eating me into a void
Until was gone but this outer shell
And the lasting imperfection,
The haunting of my failure.