You think you can't be saved
And that no one would adore you,
That if you are wretched, you cannot be divine.

But divinity is for the gods,
Oracles could not have forseen
What you would do to me.

That every word you speak
Would be a brazen network of fire in my ears,
And every breath of yours would be an arctic storm on my skin.

they're staying up all night
ripping their skin away under
fluorescents
trying to
make their
words more
jagged

the worst feeling
is when you want to cry
but can't
and you are left feeling
vacant
emotionless
and broken