it is supposed to be survival of the fittest
faded dreams uncomprehensible
confusion
washed over with salted tears
and emptiness
a void created by me
for me
a vaccum
like prison room
i am confined
defined by perceptions of would be truths
i am the demon
consumed
covered by a smokescreen of apparent strength
when truly below the surface
i am weak...
a bleak turning of events
to set she free
from the insanity that will continue to walk with me
its better this way
her survival she has always maintained
today will be the same
"I wish you heaven, I wish you heaven...Prince"