we create these
perfect little illusions
love happiness a future
but in the end
they burn too hot
and leave us
with nothing but
the bitter taste
of ash

emotions fade
like weather-beaten paint
on an old home
as we are continually punished
with totality and inquisition
alone used and discarded

it’s those magical memories
that’ll kill you
slowly

you can only be tough
for so long
and then
you’re too numb to even cry

take my advice
don’t try
because sometimes
it’s better
to be alone
than to be
hurt again

too many failures will drive a man to madness