Listen, I'm fine if you tell them,
Every single thing I did to you,
As long as you also tell them
Every single thing you did to me.

Every single time you led me on,
Every single secret of mine you shared,
Every single promise you broke.
Every. Single. Thing.

Love is like a campfire, at least love with you.

We both set it up and the flames start building,
And you bask in the warmth while I bring the logs
From the dark forest, I go trip after trip
Unable to rest in my very own warmth

Sent out again to keep the flames going,
But one time I trip over a thick root in the dark.
I pick myself up alone, deciding to come back empty handed
Maybe I could rest up, focus on my own well being.

You're waiting there, questioning why I didn't bring any back
And yet no explanation seems to satisfy you.
So as the flames die out and the light starts to dim
You decide to walk away, seeing as I'm no use to you anymore.

And that is why Love is like a campfire.
The brightest and most passionate,
Only created under the effort of both parties,
While one one-sided leaves you out in the cold.

Damaging myself in my own confusion,
What's really right and what's an illusion?

As my heart races from one soul to the next,
My mind is stuck here, quite oddly perplexed.

My desire for affection leading me astray,
***** tomorrow, I don't even know my today.

Mind split from heart, what's good or what's right?
One side to the other, like a flickering light.

Caught in the crossfire of my own poor fate,
Don't know if I should keep on at this rate.

The cuts getting loud and the thoughts going dark,
Stuck in the ocean with a revolving shark

I've fought all my battles, I've won all my wars
But I don't think luck's on my side anymore.

The demons, they scream in glorious delight
Teasing me, joking me, just out of spite.

They prey on the weak, I'm no one diverse,
Until they release me from this final curse.

The closet is a place
For many things to be stored.

Things like button-up shirts
And fancy little ties
To a new sexuality
And a newer sense of mind

An idea, generally frowned upon
Nobody would like you if they knew.
Or even yourself!
The closet's a great hiding place too.

From the demons and monsters
That live in your very home
Through thick and thin,
They still continue to roam.

And some things never leave the closet
Even if you know that they're there.
Something keeps them locked in
Never again for you to wear.

So many groups,
So many more a religion
That people want to believe in
Forced to make the other decision.

Toxicity keeps them where they are
In a dysphoric state of "This isn't me."
Victims of a harsh society,
They just want to be set free.