tangled in the strands,
tied into a self imposed fate.
Sand falls quicker when it's almost gone,
each grain carrying more weight,
knowing the last will drop before too long.
So much more was wanted,
the mind denied and sabotaged,
the thought of happiness has me haunted.
The color is draining,
joy is harder to come by,
it's always raining.
I'm no fun anymore.
