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These problems exist inside my mind like a heavy New Orleans fog |
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My thinking has slowed itself down to a crawl unwillingly |
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Compassion fueled |
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By depression |
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My savior is death |
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Does this make sense |
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My love is silenced |
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By ignorance |
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My answer is death |
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Does this make sense |
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The wind has picked up since last night and it carries with grief |
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Our worried nature drowns us in a frigid ocean of regret |
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My breathing stands still just long enough to feel inept |
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Me |
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On the receiving end of honest hostility |
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And you |
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On the giving end of the candid frustration |
