The World’s Saddest Dish

If the weather was my saviour

From the horrors of my mind

I would give away all my reasons

And happily turn blind

To the dying hands of sorrow

Where nothing’s left to give

Nothing left to hold or find now

Inside a fragile cage I live

The streets are lightly filled now

With mud and cloud’s own tears

I walked straight into a fire

Leaving all my broken fears

Into the playful hands of Sadness

Preparing the world’s saddest dish

Asking me if I’d like to taste it

Would I have a final wish

Soon I expect the flames to come out

And grip me and my skin

Every tale was fabricated

Every word had a lie within

Every tear has now been wasted

Every wound now holds your name

Should I live on like I do now

Or should I quit and die in shame?

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21 thoughts on “The World’s Saddest Dish

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