I am the result of years of abuse;
Hopelessly lost with nothing to lose.
My own failure serves as the only excuse.
Once in this block a mansion stood,
beautiful walls of brightly painted wood.
Surrounding this house was a garden of lively flowers,
Carefully tended by many gardeners.
Before, long-ago,
my future was already made,
Yet this is the game of life,
And I was the one who got played.
That wonderful house, so elegant in the past,
Tilted out of control and violently crashed.
Now here I stand in this overgrown plot,
My feet crunching the crumbled walls that have begun to rot.
There was a fire that once burned in my heart,
Yet stopping a flame isn’t as easy as the start.
That fire spread through the fertile grounds that used to be my mind;
And now nothing of worth is left to find.
All that remains is heap of smoldering ashes,
Soon to be extinguished by my tears’ never-ending splashes.