Clear

It aches,
It aches,
It's torn apart.
It's not my fault,
I don't see how.
I can't keep going;
Can't turn 'round.
The feelings changing.
I'm burning down.
I can't believe;
I can't behold
The empty-sorrow-sullen glow.
That aching
pain
and pulsing
scene
that's broken,
burst
apart from me.
The horrid evil sane dessert
of malice driven
towards the bulk
of shattered spirits
drifting by.
They carried off
my soul
to die.
But what's the matter?
It's not there.
It's now aching,
brave or fair.
I can't take this
all broken down.
And teary smiles
Of falseness lied...
The momentary gossip fed
to keep the moment's
hope dim led.
But in real fields you know the truth:
You hated me,
the moment's through.
I want you gone.
I want it all.
I want this dreadful year of fall.
I want my memory
erased
or better yet-
story replaced.
I want it all to disappear
and if you won't,
I'll make it clear.
I want to die
and don't care how,
if you can't see
or hear
or cry.