We hurt ourselves
To distract our hearts

I'm not quite certain
if it's working anymore

You mind your steps
   after you've stumbled.
You miss your home
   after you’ve left it.
You value your health
   after you’ve been sick.

But you can’t enjoy life
   after you died.

What are you hiding from
In the grand pictures you paint

Surely you must know by now
That stories are only stories
Never mind the gold coating your fingertips
And dripping sweetly from your lips

Did you really think you could forget
In the shadows of this ink
That this is all you have