I run, I run, as fast as I can run,
Away from the memories that make me.
I hate myself, I think it's fate,
But fate isn't uncertainty I can see.
Through the meadow I run, head's quite spun,
Everything needs to be rewritten at once.
But the threads run deep, unsatisfying my grip,
Spool from the yarn undone.
My mental joints, if I have a point,
Rattled in the mind some way.
Distortion is a snake, there's no escape,
I've been trying to chase it away.
I'm merely now a ghost, of a former post,
Wispy and frozen in time.
The trajectory is straight, downward its fate,
A future where hope is a crime.
I'm really weak, the shadow more bleak,
I concede, I've lost my speed.
Edges have blurred, the tongue badly slurred,
Still standing where I started to bleed.
Round and round, with a maddening sound,
I scream the madness out of me.
It's just a start, the pain's too stark,
A bona-fide mess of misery.
