Bowing to a monolith of grief. Obsessing over discord.
Daydreaming of nights that led my staggering steps to nowhere.
Bathing in the Summer night's cold and in the black of night, I feel so old.

I feel so worn, quartered, and torn. Hung from the post where my brothers once sung.
Cut from the tie where my sanity binds. Stuck in Winter's Hell, with just you in mind.
Waiting in the cold, where we hide behind.

I can't move on, because I can't shed the weight of myself.
There is no such thing as the past, present, or future.
There just is, and it never goes away.

I thought about you for the rest of the day.
Catching my head turning to find you again.
I hated myself for it.