Smoldering

Every time I think you've grinded me to dust,You find a new way to break me even more.You started with my future, my dreams, my ambitions.Now they're naught but a pile of ash. Then you moved to my present.Made me feel small. Useless, even.Like a barely smoldering torch against a sea of shadows.But you never could break my mask. How is it that you cannot tear this painted-on smile?Is it because I refuse to give it up?Or are you merely saving it for another day? You've shattered me, every last bit.But I'll keep trying to glue myself back together.Not because of me, and not because of you. It's because for every torch snuffed,a thousand more take its place. These, you, are my demons to face.And so face them, I shall.