Broken Promise

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Is someone out there listening

to what I have to say?

Can you feel what I'm saying?

Help me find a lighter day.

Stressed out, and simmering,

I can't erase all that I lay on myself.

I feel like a disgrace.

 

But, now, can't you see

This isn't how it's supposed to be.

Cynicism is a rampant eulogy

Imposed upon our socity.

And though we can't be free,

This is our reality.

Is this what I'm meant to be?

Callous in my unity?

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