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An anguishing feeling of nostalgia
Lingers from this creeping moment
Laying in a tomb of feathers
Turns into flames
The crawlspace is musky
But is more comforting than a living room
Buried into a pillow
I never want to leave

Claiming the anxiety
Rest in the heights above the floorboard
Slapped across the face
With the reality of whats to become of us

Bust my head against the wall
It was my only battle
A sense of agony
A portrait of depression
Painting the blood
Against this landscape
Of a house we call home
The summer is coming
But will always have the aggression of winter

Burns cement deeper into the skin
Scarring an unlaced mind
The pipe cinders, wasting away
The only reason is to feel numb

I can’t hear you
Mumbling thoughts, never to understand
Damned to waste away like you
A testament to a broken hope