Backwards in Neutral

Too long now, have you been begging to be healed

Unwilling to look into your darkness

the Void has already looked back at you

Weeping, tired of the prison you created for it

high upon a pedestal called Identity

The fancy lacework of bandages you call healing are failing

Blood stains the people you touch

You, desperately begging they be baptized by your wounds

To wear your crimson battle crest of scars

To love you deeply, to clean and mend the wound

When that whole life should be amputated

Phantom future syndrome 

Feeling all that could yet still be

From a choice made in haste long ago

A roadmap of miscalculations and shortcomings so deeply etched into the mind

Attempts at new roads fall victim to yesterday’s topography

The anti-hero hell-bent on changing the past to change the future

Instead of allowing the future to happen

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