Have you been here baby?

Have you been on the bottom of the shower's floor with dry burning eyes?

I am there.

And it doesn't seem to matter when or who I call there is no outstretched hand.

It's a constant cycle of pain and scarring.

I have so many scars it all seems natural.

It's a blessing to feel anything except this hole.

Anyone I love seems to make it their duty to tear me down to destroy every inch of faith.

I'm starting to question what and why.

Hit after hit after hit.

There is no more armour.

There is no more feeling.

There is no more faith.

Yet here still lie those tears.

Here still lies the rain.

Here still lies the scars.

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