Too much because of too little
A lot because of the feelings.
Time is too late because the heart was too fake
Endless because it has overflowed the soul.
Infinite it will remain.
Without warning it climbed onto your very life
Taking under its own self, the only escape.
Parched are your eyes from losing too many tears, while seeing so clearly.
If band aids could cover one’s inner hurts.
Desperately anguish survives
To merely show one of what hold that it has on them
Breaking anything that gets in its path
It will not waver from its wrath.
To simply exist is its special torture.
Longing becomes survival
Survival just means to be here or there
Nothing really to gaze upon and understand
Imaginatively giving you it’s reprimand.
One chance, backed into a corner
Frantic for escape
When this sadness is the captor.
Sadness will have the upper hand.
Mws R Writings 