Defeatist

Taylor McCarte

This ruin is wrought from failure
Robbed of the foreign scent of victory
Not callous, pious nor spiteful
Merely nature at its most basic

Those two acidic words
They burn right through the skin
Marring an already twisted mind
Leading to untold fractures

Amid a sea of hopelessness
Where would be nations drown
Sinking down deeper
Into an infernal mediocrity

Take this defeat and let it fester
Take this pain and let it bloom
Only then would you understand
That even nothing may be taken away

Destruction is the only means of escape
Madness comes as an afterthought
Desperately longing and alone
Shadows become a constant companion

Take this pain, let it fester
Take this defeat and let it bloom
Maybe now will you finally understand
That everything and nothing is finite

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