the flood gates opened, and they never closed
the dam was filled up, and it overflowed

body sprawled on the floor, tears don’t finish their pour
no one cared enough, they hadn’t dealt with this before

are the cogs turning backwards? has my machine run its course?

keep working, keep pushing, they all say aloud
the need and thirst for any way out

haunts me and hovers, with a warm embrace
urging me, to get to its place

the twisted knives, the sick game of doubt
is it better with me? is it better without?

me and my gun, till death do us part
maybe they’ll miss me, when we’re planes apart