Before, I was in control...
Held My head up,
Thought I'd never fall.

Now, eyes will roll...
Laugh at me people,
Those that hates me will,
I know they will—make fun of me still.

Shattered— now I know am;
Whole— I know I once was, but now I can't seem to pick my pieces up,
scattered around dried desert sands across empty shells inside my heart.

Truly I am now Torn apart;
Can't be pasted nor glued— this heart of mine's too wasted, it can no longer be used.

Am I this Broken?!
Can't I be fixed after all of this?
Questions of mine needed answers,
even as I succumb to deep surrender...
Still I wonder.

Here I am, Hating myself still...
Breathing but inside I'm dying.
Barely living... can't stop the hurting.

Alive on the outside, dead on the inside...

Not dead, not not living;
Zombie is what they can call me.
Rotting flesh, but looks fresh.
Looking at the window sill.
Salivating still,
Waiting for the next meal.