Fall

My self progression seems to be moving backwards, self worship bowing down to a pharoah, images made of gold, I sacrifice who I was and exchange my soul for a dream, i awake, reality built of nightmares, on the balcony of thought i sit, counting the vultures waiting to consume me, a house, brick walls, family aint no home, T.V farthers me and school mothers me, a baby on powder milk, my heart becomes a desolated planet, pumping nothing but dust, in whirlwinds of sanity, not talking seems to be taking its toll on me, self pity doesnt do it for me, so I place the pain in liquid form, swallow and move on