Re-Construction

The dam has been reconstructed.
Rebuilt with pieces of hopes and dreams.
Each broken promise is the mortar.
Filling both the gaping holes and seams.
But what does it matter?
The water level is rising.
Ever turbulent are the waves.
Beating down against the tired walls.
But with a foundation this far in place,
The outdated system never caves.
So who is there to blame?
For the crashing sounds calling out
Or for the optimism drowning slow
As I push it's head below the crests
And whisper, "you have much further down to go."
Die slowly, happy thoughts.
Greet the disappointment that you've left.
With a love no soul has ever seen
Just an owner here, both ugly and bereft.
Who are you to judge?
Who are you to stop and stare?
Who are you to pretend and feign a gasp,
Or have the fucking nerve to care?
Be not a witness here,
For blood will stain your hands.
I'm just drowning out the weakness of emotions, dear.
That's what nobody understands.
So leave me here to paint the walls.
And make this dam a mural that can warn,
Everyone. From the pretty to the peasant,
That I hate this entire fucking world today.
And I wish we gods were never born.

So ignore the noises that you hear.
For I have heights I need to reach
Just to escape my emotions' fluid state
In an attempt to clean this wretched, dirty slate.
Yet, I don't expect any sympathy
Or even expect a form of aid
Because my disposition is growing cold
So we can call a spade a spade.