Swimming through this murky apathy
I look hard and I try to see
Just a few pieces of me, how I used to be
Slowed to a snail’s pace.
I can’t help but let some of life
Pass by like a picture of life
Not really life, just a pale imitation.
My heartbeat’s grown faint
There’s no pigment in the paint,
I don’t know what color to call it
Me being someone who I ain’t
Where did I go, is there anyone at home?
I scream silently, searching for pieces of me.
What kind of sickness is this?
Who created this monster
that leaves only an empty shell?
Pulled from the wreckage of a lovely hell
That was quickly sinking lower
Than the human eye could go.
Cold blood seeping slowly
Into the emptiness of the trail I fear to tread
Drip! Drip! Am I bad or am I good?
And for whom?
If I can’t decide which way to go
Will I only spin my wheels?
Or am I really and truly
Just waiting to heal?