Built on Nothing

Fathom the depression
And the dirt you chose to bathe in,
They have no linking chain
To suppress every sin.
It'll burrow and shout its name,
While you sit and ponder
Why it's come back again
To unveil the shame.
We have no more youth
Or space for reluctance,
You're on in five
And you don't know why.
The devil is back on the market
And he's calling your name,
It just so happens that he delivers
And gift wraps the insane.
What's inside is inevitable
On the premise of self loathing
And taking ones hand
Who already can't stand.

Yet you welcome the dirt
And think the mixture blends,
While ignorantly swallowing
The belief that it'll mend.