Sitting in an emotional soup.
Liquid depression boiling over..
A mixture seasoned with chaos, irritation, and psychotic rage.
I want to live..
I'm so sick of this island.
The isolation is maddening.
I want to build a boat from your bones.
Live on the sea eating your muscles.
Shelter myself from the storms with your flesh.
Craft a sail out of your innards..
You will die,
As have I, inside..
Rot in the cell,
Of your own hand made hell.
Only time will tell..
Once the reaper rings that bell..
Just how far from grace you fell.