Kept to myself in vagrant spaces, now left alienated and out of placement. It's kept my mind racing, but that's incarcerated in the basement. Now I'm just playing faces, praying this life will stop being so degrading. But I tried that and just keep on failing. Today I learned that my skins just a waste of spaces.
What were the words, you had fantasized in? What did you think, while your lips were on his? What did I do to deserve all of this? I fell in love, not off of a bridge.
What can I do, that will help me forget? What type of things, can assist a forgive? Where do I go, after all this? Don't fall in love, just jump off a bridge.
It's like the things that I write, don't sit quite right with the people I idolize., it's like the things that I write stay out of sight, and are never truly recognized. Though they cut like a knife, spread bare my insides, show you just what it's like, to be living a life, where you already have died. Bare witness to my demise, it will end as a suicide in the future sometime, to that I testify.
Smoking cigarettes again, haven't got much chance at anything I can barely think. As I lay here on, my, bed. Listening to the very music that makes my heart stop dead.
Stuck on death, solving all your problems with a slit of your wrist; wondering how you ever got like this. Is it really cause your mother drinks? Or because it'd "always work out" when it never did.
Again I feel the need to cut open my own skin. Again I feel the need to bleed for the things that you did. Again I can't control this beast within, a hate in my heart that can't help but win. So I'll take out a blade and cut it all off, I'll bleed this all out just to make it all stop.
Up and down and up, and down, all around and all over town. From the upwards of peaks to the lowest of streams, just listen to me and you'll find where you need to be. Just get through this creek, take your time and find peace, then you will learn how to follow your dreams.
It kinda seems to me, like I need to reinforce some things.
One of them is me, so fix in form of dreams.
But if dreams are where I'm dying,
Then where's the fun in that?
So much left to wonder,
I thought we made a pact,
Not to give up on her;
And then never to look back?