Inspiration No More

I don’t know how it happened, but I just tricked my heart into stopping. I forced the warm blood in my veins to freeze. For my mind to calm from the tornado of thoughts; For my pulse to stop it’s strumming. But the dreams still come And my mind is still full, So even though I put my love on hold, Life is still coming. But the feelings have changed, And in the last week I have aged. Realizing the truth of shortcomings. The truth being that no one is perfect and all are immature when in love. Your focus becomes shuffled like a playlist And then you end the relationship with angry tisks. Angry at yourself. Angry at your love. Raising your fists up to the Lord above. Wailing profoundly with choking cries Even though no one hath died But it still hurts all the same. The unmistakable nausea and pain, When you realize with a pang That your forever love has been snatched up by the hands of a harlot And the love that you felt no longer runs scarlet. The defeat that you feel Like a bird with a broken wing No happiness can fill your voice when you then sing, And all you want to do is scream! Feeling empty and lost, Alone with just your thoughts Feeling hollow like a shell, But you hide it so no one can tell. Not wanting to show weakness, So you fake it with false sickness. But the sycamore feels everlasting, When all you want is for the rush to end… And then it does. Like plunging into Titanic’s flow. The knives slice through you when you hit the surface Your mind races no longer with purpose. Then you take an icy breath or two And all will stops. As you give up and sink like Jack to the ocean floor. Your love disappears. Inspiration No More. I don’t know how it happened, but I just tricked my heart into stopping. I forced the warm blood in my veins to freeze. For my mind to calm from the tornado of thoughts; For my pulse to stop it’s strumming. But the dreams still come And my mind is still full, So even though I put my love on hold, Life is still coming. But the feelings have changed, And in the last week I have aged. Realizing the truth of shortcomings. The truth being that no one is perfect and all are immature when in love. Your focus becomes shuffled like a playlist And then you end the relationship with angry tisks. Angry at yourself. Angry at your love. Raising your fists up to the Lord above. Wailing profoundly with choking cries Even though no one hath died But it still hurts all the same. The unmistakable nausea and pain, When you realize with a pang That your forever love has been snatched up by the hands of a harlot And the love that you felt no longer runs scarlet. The defeat that you feel Like a bird with a broken wing No happiness can fill your voice when you then sing, And all you want to do is scream! Feeling empty and lost, Alone with just your thoughts Feeling hollow like a shell, But you hide it so no one can tell. Not wanting to show weakness, So you fake it with false sickness. But the sycamore feels everlasting, When all you want is for the rush to end… And then it does. Like plunging into Titanic’s flow. The knives slice through you when you hit the surface Your mind races no longer with purpose. Then you take an icy breath or two And all will stops. As you give up and sink like Jack to the ocean floor. Your love disappears. Inspiration No More.