Battlegrounds of the lost and forgotten
.
.
.
Too much,
Too less,
Too little,
Too late,
Arguments lost
Battles ill-fated
All fought on hollowed grounds
Built with broken pieces.
We need no enemies
No hurdles
No barricades
We are the architects of our misery
The poorly made parody
A source of amusement
To the three spinners of destiny.
Bathed in self sabotage
Rage incarnate,
Wrapped in a veil of self-doubt
We bled sentimentality.
Anger and envy
We trade emotions like currency
We willingly drown
In pools of ill thought
Notions and epiphanies.
Minds woven with madness
Happiness seems obscene
We spend days locked in isolation
Fighting battles within ourselves
With enemies’ unseen.
We cater to our demise
With an unwavering devotion
We consume our pain
In silence
As we dig the grave
For our dreams
Lost in another’s wars
We set up our trebuchets
Only to bring down our own walls
And mount a pointless siege
The flames burned higher
The skies bled red
The rivers boiled over
This is what we deserved
What we wanted
The ashes taste bittersweet
As we let others
Set a flame to our needs
It seemed righteous at that point
The voices seemed sane
But the victory felt
More like defeat.
…
Thank you for reading! Also, I sure do love support and coffees! 💜
