• A flash of good times flying
    of friends and dreams dying
    buying and denying my own demise
    and yet the scars still surprise
    judging from the look in my eyes
    in the stained mirror in which I stare
    every morning, in mourning
    debating with myself and hating what was
    and for all the good that the Vicodin does
    I still feel the old pains of the Siren
    but now Im in a new world
    where she's gone, replaced with an angel
    but on come new stresses
    parents...a parent... and sad excuses for the aforementioned
    excuses with no uses but to wear me down
    and if I ever bring myself out of despair
    a harpie is invariably there
    life has been an upstream battle in that infamous creek
    with no paddle
    the past year has left me exhausted, weak
    to sickened to speak