Desolate

Temples pounding Another migrane to mark the pain A dull throbing in my chest shifts to full flames Solitary. Even after attempts I still fail. And I wonder Standing on the brink Watching the world advance As I slip through the cracks Slight optomism occasionally shines through slits in the crooked floorboards of my mind and soul To be consumed by the ways passed down the bloodlines Nature vs. nurture? Neither on my side I have excuses for years to back me up Just help to find the cure But I've been abandoned And the feeling is commonplace To rot alone barred by my shaky psyche But the sun always shines on my desolate mind And I retrieve the pieces Place them together again Start anew. Or as close as possible. I dread I dread the ever coming eclipse