Am I a product of your creation, or are you one of mine?
There's hardly but a whisper anymore, just an old forgotten tune
One that echos faintly through the shut off ruins of my mind.
Even now some part of me continues to dance to their rhythms
though I've long lost the ability to hear their splendor.
Buy boy how I still hold on to that silver spoon,
and pray for a miracle, one to finally pull me through this darkness.
But they never come, and I'm left defeated and wallowing in my own doubt, and pity.
My mind has become nothing more than a broken thing,
Like shattered glass.. dangerous to all those who come too close.
I am tired, I am empty, and I have forgotten my name,
I have forgotten my place, and I've been left all alone, covered in disgrace.
Yet you still whisper to me "come and play",
but only in our dreams and our memories are lost the moment I awake.
It's been far too long since I've tasted real peace or heard the silence of mercy.
I feel I am being punished, or forgotten,
but maybe it's easier that way,
for the both of us.