Lost so much that I have nothing to find.
The world is anything but kind,
But I’ll be fine.
I don’t mind,
Lost so much I even lost my mind.
So it’s not that I don’t, I suppose
I can’t, but I propose,
To hold everything close to my heart.
To lose everything but the things you cherish is an art.
If you’re smart, I suppose you create a vault.
But when you’re hurt, I suppose you’ll burn it all down.
When you’re hurt, I supposed you’ll flood the gates until you drown.
But how much pressure can you take before the walls crack?
How much darkness does it take to turn even the purest soul black?
© Akeem Rowe Kingsinister, 2016