I hope that it's real, rather I yearn for it to be so

Every beat, every thought and so aches my soul

My reflection an apparition I long to depart

Here I lay dreaming, wishing for a new start

Can the cup that's broken ever be repaired

Should we trust a two legged chair

Dull knives, dim lights, or a dead battery

I'm useless, these words not meant for flattery

Ah, I feel it piercing painfully My cries are looked upon disdainfully You cut from me that which you want Strung up and tied a trophy to flaunt

Finding my home in the butchers' display Only pleased when you see my dismay You fill me with hope and hold me in reserve If not ignorant, is it what I truly deserve