my head is up against the wall..
my eyes are welling up
the flush of ancient memories
milked and concocted my bitter cup.

This memories dear girl
are wounds from generations past.
Those hastily moved on
Wounds that never healed.

Against the cold hard wall
my head collapses onto its void.
The void of ideas of solutions of resolve
the desperation and hopelessness

Her silly conviction
and her questionable devotion.
I'm stuck between the questions i have
and answers i must find to save oneself.

I ask, why couldnt i give more?
I ask Him why good looks are bestowed on crooks.
They tell me:
Life's like this

i'll end this when im back.