Endeavors Left Behind...

I see the eager souls
ready to capture life
to store in their pocket

But my pocket,
my pocket has a hole

My pockets are sharp
when they're littered
with this shrapnel

the remnants clinging,
clinging to the fibers



My hands are shredded
by the lost causes
the endeavors left behind

When will the wounds,
the wounds become scars?

Envy might be the devil's virtue
but who can really say
if that's right or true

When everything I ask
is just to be you
to be you

Words and visual by Lisa