Is it so wrong to question if this world is still a beautiful place to be?
Is it so wrong to ask for proof that this world is still worth living in?
Is it so wrong to crave a release from all of this?
Life has dealt hand after hand and I've played its game.
I'm ready to fold; always ready.
I ask myself, "Why?"
"Why do you keep moving forward?"
I'm always met with silence.
A silence that gives me no sense of solace.
Hanging over me like a veil of dread.
No matter how much I reach out towards that bright sunset,
Fading light slips out;
Overflowing; Trapped within eternal twilight.
How much of this has to go on?
Do you know what broken means?
I am shattered, piece by piece.
But my heart's still telling me