break

It all happens in that "punch drunk love" sort of way that makes you wonder if you ever stood a chance against it in the first place. You try to ignore it, avoid it, patrol it, and, in the end, it takes no prisoners. And you can forget about counting the cuts that it gives you, they don't disappear. It's forever indented on your soul and always creating new life, although sometimes not without killing an old one first.
You disdain that you respect it for slapping you in the face when nobody else would. For, without it, you wouldn't have seen how cruel the world can really be. With a system of checks and balances in its unfairness, it taught you. Almost like learning to fly and having your wings chopped off. You never truly can forget the feeling of being your best and instantly becoming your worst.
You become what you never dreamed and what you always despised: desperate. In the blink of an eye you went from euphoria to pure hell. Almost too much to process, you find yourself questioning if it was ever real to begin with or was it all just imaginatively created?
The worst part is that you don't even really care. You would gladly take the fakeness to feel your best again, but you are now smarter, wiser, & hardened. So you swallow it, you bury it, but you forever carry it. It is a dead weight upon you that, ultimately, you can't help but develop a fondness for after what it showed you. It becomes a part of you, for better and worse.

Life without the Sun

Perhaps it's just April and all of the rain, but I don't have faith in May

and although she was around this morning, she wasn't here to stay

No, she left as quickly as she came. I barely caught a glimpse

At night I try, her sister and I, to forgive her selfishness

I wonder if she even knows that she's the only one I've got

and the song-less birds of this old town sure do miss her a lot

That a life without her is not exactly much of a life at all

and we would all be willing to take her back, if she would just give us a call