One last look before I tear…

It’s all the same.
It’s always the same.

The grief inside becomes an ache as I
Pull on my face for you, as I
Breathe in this same stale air.
Our lungs are just drenched in it.

All the same,
Oh so dull.

The fed-up feeling
That tugs at my core.
Screaming for fresh blood, new scenery,
A fleeting landscape as we sail across miles. Away.

It all stays the same, but
This tears and it wretches
Gashing new holes, struggling to depart.

Every day a series of disappointing
Unstimulating decay.
So secure. So safe.
But does safety breed satisfaction?

It can’t stay the same.
I rip it apart myself.

And the trail of destruction is the most obscenely,
Deliciously different thing I have ever torn from within.


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