I don’t dream in color anymore
it’s all very black and white.
Right and wrong good and bad
it’s either the truth or a lie.
I don’t believe in fairy tales
in magic or spinning webs.
The intricacy just confuses me now
and I get tangled up in the mess.
There is no speaking with rhythm
or using words that rhyme.
The music has gone from the sound of my voice
the words fall flat on the floor.
The smile has gone from my face
and the twinkle from my eye.
I paint on the grin I’m supposed to wear
to carry me through the day.
There is nothing driving me forward
nothing spurring me on.
The spring in my step is more like a limp
as each step is taken in vain.
I hate being broken, I hate being sore
I hate how those words define me.
I can’t pretend that I’m not dying a death
or that any of this suits me.
I’m angry and bitter and torn inside
the jagged parts needing repair.
I don’t know how to fix any of this
I’m so tired of being here.