{"sf1_id":544769,"sf2_id":null,"title":"A Mentally Handicapped Chorus Line Killed By An Apocalyptic Hailstorm","author":"ThelenOrca","words":292,"posted_at":"2013-05-30T06:21:00.000Z","tags":["Depression","Emo","Hardcore","Music","Poetry","Psychological","existentialism","lyrics"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/544769-a-mentally-handicapped-chorus-line-killed-by-an-apocalyptic-hailstorm","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/544769","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=544769\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"#2 of Poetry, Lyrics, and such.\n\nThis particular lyric I started writing about a month back, and I rather like the way it turned out. Hope you guys enjoy it! :D","content":"I am so clearly in despair, for I fear\n\nThat the person I have come to be has already lain in his grave.\n\nA torn entity, free of conscious control to adhere\n\nIn its aftermath, it will question what it gave.\n\nI'm used to the pain, but the guilt is a whole other story\n\nThere's not much more of me that I can give away.\n\nBefore this husk of a body loses every memory\n\nAnd comes to a halt, left only to...\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nSway with the breeze.\n\nLooking up into the sky\n\nNot knowing what, when\n\nWhere, who, or how can I?\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nI would write for days\n\nBody cold and depraved\n\nMy mind let loose into the dark\n\nBut no matter how I try\n\nTo accept the ink has run dry\n\nI write on, I write on.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nNo happiness to speak of in my realm of thought.\n\nThough I think of the truth, of my emptiness\n\nI'm met by a force, a voice, a comfort\n\nBeckoning me to stay and rest.\n\n\"You're too weak to make a difference\n\nNo matter what you say you want to be\"\n\nI guess that\n\nI take for granted that voice that pleads\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\"Stay at home\"\n\nFuck you, I know my own\n\nStrength lies in my bones\n\nDetermination, I'll set in this stone.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nI used to write for days\n\nBody cold and depraved\n\nMy mind let loose into the dark\n\nBut no matter how I try\n\nTo accept the ink has run dry\n\nI write on, I write on\n\nThe pen falls from my hand\n\nFingers numb and callous\n\nI'll choose to make my own way\n\nGet up from this desk\n\nNumbed hand placed to my breast\n\nI'll live on, I'll live on...\n\n  \n  \n\n"}