My Mistake

The disease sits between the lines They collide and make beautiful catastrophes The hand would do anything to take the pain Take it from the heart and give it away Taking everything from the mind. Consciousness, reasoning and the ability to think Freedom is in the suppression of emotions Sit back and feel the world. Feel the pain It seems lost in the confusion The chaotic banter numbs the senses, cancerous Feeding on the heartache and breathing smoke Deep and panic, not able to slow breathing Choking on what used to be lungs