They don’t want me to live..The adore me too much..
They want me all to themselves.. Fulfilling their desires..
It’s cold outside.. So cold..
And it’s getting dark.. Burnt skies..
And they are winning..
Flooding the psyche of a dilapidated warrior..
Do not they know their envy is crushing me?
Do not they know I do not belong to them but to the world..
I can’t feel freedom because I don’t belong to myself..
A wounded warrior… Yet they still find the most use out of me..
They want me crushed.. So that they may have the joy of building me back up..
Like Humpty Dumpty how will they put me back together again?
With precision and special modifications..
They need a machine they can manage.. Not a god they can follow..
They, sincerely, don’t want me to live..