Confessional

Wallowing in this vacant self pity
asking redundant questions to which I know the answers to
Only broken and half hearted, ranting just to know I'm heard
Yearning to defy myself and direct these concerns at you.

But you, may never know,
These dreams I hold
Truth will be foretold
When these sorrows are shown

Babbling incoherent, inconsistent melodramas
to melodies, with these progressive depressing provisions
Staring wide-eyes and vacant
expecting the solutions to my anxieties from you and these pages I write on

But you, may never know,
These dreams I hold
Truth will be foretold
When these sorrows are shown

Failing are my frail attempts to try and compose myself
these corrosive verses these locks that hold all this shit
inside and away from where it can do the most damage
I feel, to you, it would only kill what I am trying to save
So I will go down with this ship if I can help it
If it can be helped at all..

You, may never know,
These dreams I hold
Truth will be foretold
When this confession grows