The shadows remain your friend. As you cling on to life before it ends.
You watch the children run past in joy.
Yet they have no clue what lies ahead.
You feel the cold breeze of the evening sky, your body is withering and your soul so dead.
The voices stay reminiscent in your head.
Looking for a future while you dwell in your past, the brokenness adds to the mask.
Her name on your lips beyond compare, as her picture in your hand makes you stare.
The glare of her eyes twinkling in the dark.
Embedded on your heart, as her presence in your life leaves that mark.
Like lark she flew away like she received freedom from her cage.
All you feel is rage and pain.
Years later you are not greater nor do you see yourself heal.
The devil comes by to make me a deal, yet I walk away from that offer.
Little did I know he too doesn't accept the broken soul.
Worthlessness and shame creeps up to deliver no comfort to life.
You hug yourself together every night. Peace is not a friend, love is a foe and passion a monger to let pain grow.
Life is a no longer a gift for me anymore. Emotions have left and people can't judge you through your mask.
The man walks in his shadow, tis his only friend to hold.
These are the memoirs of a broken soul.
Written and composed by
Timothy Justin Rudolph Rodricks
