A Little Melodramatic

This tattered heart is not a home
Poorly protected by skin and bone
I fall down upon bruised knees
Wishing the worst to become of me

I'm not a saint with all these sins
A soul lay wasted by savage whims
A broken shadow of myself
Contorted into someone else

Winds of change howl fierce and loud
Innumerable failures litter the ground
Echoes of agony wrack my brain
Simmering sorrow falls like rain

Tendrils of hatred creep up my spine
A jagged ache peers through my eyes
My tongue is tied with barbed wire
Suffering inside this silent fire

Hands itching to end the curse
Waiting to detach and purge
To plunge the knife into my being
And eradicate this painful feeling