Defeated

My mind grows tired 

As I attempt to decipher 

The ways and many words;

The forms they take, 

The simple touch of your hand,

Or the way your eyes 

Follow me though a room. 

The way things were 

No longer my enemy 

With guessing games 

And twisted rhymes 

Designed for pure confusion.

 

This web we weave 

Is that of perfection;

When its pieces are torn apart, 

When I can't see 

Or touch the parts 

That demand the most attention. 

Bound by misery 

Disguised as fate 

Pulling me in all directions; 

I would blindly follow you 

Anywhere 

With the hopes of

That one thing

That I can and will never 

Have the words to explain. 

The indecision 

Feeding on me 

With teeth as sharp 

As razors; 

To feel what it is 

That I have always defeated 

And now I lie here its victim.-