This is the hardship.
The collected grief in life
the chains I drag behind me
just a ghost story.The pain that amounts to nothingness.
The guilt, the pride, the anger.
The glowing red fist that I would not let go.This is the belly laugh of a mad dream
I’ve hold onto air
all fine actually.It’s not even broken dreams.
Just the story I’ve given it.
It has served its value, it needs to go.You really don’t hold on to anything.
It’s just the story you’ve given it.
trying to hold on to nothingness.