If this twisted hope was a bird I'd like to shoot it down.

That feeling of being pushed from the back onto the ground.
The noise in your soul clashing together too loud
That feeling of having been slapped in the face,
afraid for what may be maybe won't be replaced
So frustrated, heavy-weighted. Must throw up all that's inside,
but eat the whole world; till what's gained chokes my pride.
Wanting to walk until the ugly view, the hopeless you is gone
Out of sight, out of mind, out of my broken pieces.
Or crawl into a box of black, gemmed and tied in laces.