Nostalgia

Standing at the crossroads,
My past catching up,
Shoot me with a crossbow,
And beat me to a pulp,
Drown me in my walls,
And feed me all your crap,
I'm still who I am,
Battered by your lies.

My heart is just a shrine,
My eyes a wall of hurt,
But that's for a little while,
My blood tastes just like wine,
My scars are piece of art,
But that's for a little while.

Scorching,  burning,
Limping, crawling,
Searching, finding,
Breaking, tearing,
Crying, howling,
Confused with all these sides.

This is just a backstage call,
A heartbreak wound,
A cracked up wall,
A rusty sword.