Spare Chains & Trauma Bondage

I want to feel weightless in a world
That seems to rest on my shoulders.
Becoming colder as the gravity 
Of reality constantly creeps closer. 

It’s a harsh, deluded truth;
Main character with loss of control.
Cold shoulders, silent tears;
In a bed that became a first home. 

Strung up by promised change; 
Strung out by a young age.
Release the bonds of care;
Exhale history — be free to fall away. 

Laid to rest all the heavy thoughts
That seem to weigh down our minds.
What’s yours is mine, & what is mine
Doesn’t matter — your constant decline. 

It’s a stark, welcome truth;
A universe of controlled chaos.
Tortured beauty, stained-glass grace;
Torched their Lover’s deceit & beds of rot. 

Exploring liminal peace, 
Where shared life once breathed.
Gasps for a delicate dance, 
Above educated feet.