My life has lost focus

as I trip and fumble around.

I cannot bring myself to focus,

even as I fall to the ground.

-

I've become a damaged good.

-

Perhaps it has something to do,

with all my nightmares about you?

-

The masked tormentor of my rest.

-

Vivid nightmares of situations I can't control,

are accompanied with sporadic movements.

My limbs thrash as a whole,

no longer fluid or divided 'to segments.

-

The masked tormentor of my rest.

-

Bad chemistry, my body hurts itself,

all the while I'm completely aware that, I, myself

-

have always been a damaged good.