Am I supposed to know when the world falls at me feet?
Crumbling like gray asphalt street, not staying,
in it's forever quietly imposing form,
crawling like a slipp'ry worm,
into my heart and with sorrow,
Eating out my eyes 
with sugar tears
I'd commit suicide,
but I have a report due tomorrow.
Years to come, years to go,
softly they flow, like wax off a candle,,
covering the handle of that closing door,
no where to run anymore.
Iron curtain over the back half of my mind,
covering the most important parts,
now all I remember,
is that cold December and pain that never existed,
my mem'ries warped and twisted,
and sorrow pretended to get my hearts attention,
so I draw into my broken heart
where I stay in willful detention,
And now,
now I'm supposed to know,
when your world falls apart?!?!?!?