Tired of this outcasted island life,
The beach was filled with broken glass.
Stabbing beasts with a dull knife,
Maybe only time for one more pass.

Confide in empty dirty rooms,
Only an echo chamber of madness.
Love is such a four-letter word,
Empty hearts just sleep with sadness.

Waiting on those better days,
They always said was due to arrive.
They exit but the demon stays,
Ready with rotten teeth to deprive.

Exhausted I only want to rest,
No sun is coming on Eastern skies.
Control I cannot seem to wrest,
Even though I stew in my own demise.

Struggle to amble up to today,
Same looping filters on the cracked lens.
They say there comes a day,
So why do I only experience the trend?
Thomas Spychalski 

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