Wake up, My Darling.

Don’t you get it my darling?

Look a little closer,

Or perhaps a little deeper,

For those cracks were there before,

Merely held together by string,


What an act to have watched,

A play gone a miss,

For this whole life is a game,

Attempting to fool you,

Holding tight to your wrists.


This circus of trickster’s,

Playing games with your mind,

Look up quickly,

Before it all unwinds.


As this life is a movie,

Nothing but a stage,

With you as the actor,

Tortured along the way.


Wake up my darling,

I’m afraid it’s too late.


Wake up my darling,

This life must be played.


Don’t you get it my darling?

You’re loosing the game.


This house is not a home.

If you stop for a moment,

Take a tour through my home,

But be careful I warn you,

This place broke long ago.


These walls they surround me,

No longer my own,

Battered and bruised,

No longer my home.


These rooms they fill me,

With pieces of grief,

A place so loving,

Almost turned on its feet.


These windows once open,

Filling air as they need,

Now collapsing around me,

Suffocation is key.


These curtains once hanging,

Now faded and grey,

A room with light,

Now nothing but dismay,


I said to be careful,

Cautious and true,

For this house is my body,

Merely broken for you.