daltonc71

Broken

Cross ventilated, birthed and defeated
My weight remains an imprint across dirty sheets
Weeks pass for a choice overdue, covered in gloom
A systematic approach to inactivity
Broken
Broken dreams
Broken life
My eyes lift only to see the blades of a ceiling fan
Coming to rest like a dying star removed of time
Dust washed away by moistures stream
This life deceased by a change unclear
Broken
Broken bank account
Broken life
Their stares kill with judgments knife
A knife that stays in sharpened state, waiting to cut
My eyes focus on the blade sliding into my chest
I trace back to the hand, which is my own
Broken
Broken mind
Broken life