Narrative
He lies in his bed
Lying to himself
That he feels alright
That time is gonna help
A clock only hurts
each movement is hell
a reminder of the past
separation from how she felt
He sees no way
no path, no trail
Tears push from behind
remind him he's failed
time and time again
attempts with no avail
broken and stitched together
alone in this gale
hiding beneath the deck
alone in this gal
she helps for a minute
til he realizes the scale
of how he was
and how he's come to be
nothing is the same
not even in his dreams
this poem is shit
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