Frail lungs breathe cold air. My wrists bleed without a mark. Love a complicated gesture I no longer believe lives within me. With a broken beat my heart fails. Stuck on repeat, over and over again, I can see the reserve images fire in my mind.
Iím Lost in a deep stare while cradling my soul in the dark. The demons have moved closer to shackle me within my own fears, and I canít see. They weigh my desires on a scale, to judge what will never be mine as I lay screaming and blind.
I feel the words but they are not tied together well enough, I feel you ended too abruptly, building a bit, giving some images but it needs just something more, something you held back when writing this, to pack the punch and end it more powerfully, in my opinion there is potential but it's not fully utilized, all of this could mean something, or nothing as I know nothing about writing, other than it is a disease.