This was the other part or my poem World’s falling apart but I pick up the pieces and put them back together, cus they can’t stay broken forever, To mend a broken heart, I say things so clever whether or not I believe whether or not they’ll succeed to better my thought and reality, but the forecast stays the same, so the bad weather causes me to endeavor to pull down that lever to flip off the light inside my head, powers out, ideas go dead, the floors are stained with red from dreams filled with lead. The lies I’ve self fed go on to become cries from my bed as I try to pretend that this isn’t the end commencing. Im grimacing, the plot is thickening, everything seems so menacing, witnessing the change, feeling nothing but shame. But then again I feel insane, yet I stay the same through all the pain, so there is no one but me to blame. When will the weather stop with rain.