Comatose / by The Black Lex Luthor

Slipping into an emotional coma. Seemed to be drained of what little remained in the first place. I try to explain to myself that there is an underlying message for it all and it probably is. I would like to think that giving it my best is what I have done. Don’t know how to manage loving when loving seems to be returned to the sender like mail that went to the wrong house. Nothing changes, nothing stays the same. It’s a cycle that I seem to be drawn into, undoing what has been done, walking around a path that ends up at the same wall I just climbed over. Sadness pours like a fountain.

Don’t cry for me, I am awaiting closure. Not so much more I can take. God asks me to have patience, and to ignore my pride, which I do. Pride is the offspring of the Ego, and they are both monsters, so much that I don’t know which is worse. Sadness.
My eyes dream of something I remembered and possibly lost again. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s much more than a man such as myself can even hope to accomplish.

God grants you what you need in order to get over. It may need to end in order to get over. And if that’s His plan, I’m good. I’m fine with it.