Morbid

Breathing is becoming laborous,
A morbid amount of emotion hanging over my head,
For no apparent reason,
Music,
Once my savior,
Is distracting and painful,
Art has lost its taste,
And blood prances through every thought,
This solitude makes a scream switch on the corners of my lips,
Id sooner stitch my lips together;
A macabre smile,
Than let them hear my anguish,
I wont allow anyone to hear my pain,
And my eyes are soon becoming mirrors,
Unable to see beyond the glass,
And living has become awkward,
Like a fish out of water,
Maybe soon Ill end that, too