Monachopsis
I’m the candle in a dark window, Of a house on the edge of the city, Slinking through the streets, No one recognizes me.
Gritting my teeth though they are not as sharp as they were in the past, Spitting my curses in the language of the outcasts, Every word I speak leaves a bitter taste in my own mouth, I have gotten used to living in a world that does not want me around.
It’s a story as old as time, Is your heart as cold as mine, Not soft as it once was but, Composed of sharp edges, Shattering and piercing my lungs, Rendering me defenseless, Bones grown weak and mind been broke, If I were truly human I couldn’t be this old.
My mind is a prison, Nobody visits, Solitary wandering, Forever over my own damn prints.
Why should I be shamed for feeling so afraid, Old soul cursed with the burden of timeless heartbreak, Got my heart on my sleeve and my head in my hands, Why is it wrong to sin in a world so damned.
It’s a story as old as time, Is your heart as cold as mine, Quit its beating and, Composed of sharp edges, Shattering and piercing my lungs, Rendering me defenseless, I’ve faded away, I’m no longer whole, If I were truly human I couldn’t be this old.
Always told not to sleep with those I don’t know, But these voices in my head aren’t mine to control, Otherwise my mind is a desert, desolate, And my body is rotted away to a skeleton.
