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I am like a house on fire
and a book of unrequited poetry.
I could explain to you so many things
yet it still wouldn't change one bit.
My presence has transpired and faded,
with everyone I've come in contact to,
quicker than a teenage angst-driven suicide.
I can construct and destroy in vicious repetition
and feel little remorse for what I've done.
Obscure thoughts are always lingering in my head
which lead me to generate a new
sense of self and satisfaction.
I wont feel alive until I touch the sky again
and nothing will keep me from trying.
AIM - CallousAmory
