Wherever you are.
Whatever you are doing.
Please, just be okay.

Bitter though the pain may bite.
The devil's chord shan't strike true.
As long as there's me and you.

Find your peace at rock bottom.
Embrace the moments so blue.
One day you'll know what to do.

Stand up, walk away, and sing
While you bid your love adieu.
Then, you shall be happy too.

At nineteen I sat in a stark white room.
Made my home among fellow lunatics.
I carved in the pages of a notebook.
I offered up the luckiest number.
I took hold of seven and made it mine.
Seven years I offered to find my peace.
Seven cycles around a dying star.
If my soul still felt bitter and alone,
then fate would grace my own hands once again.
Finally, the blood would pour into porcelain.

But despite it all, fear strikes at my heart.
I have hit twenty-six, I feel weary.
So, I beg to the void one final time.
I am weak, I am alone, I am scared.
I softly scream, please hear this cry for help.
I may be selfish, I may be unkind,
but please, show me the light I cannot find.

Bathe away your aches in the morning dew.
Breathe the fresh sunrise air and start anew.
Mark down the idly passed moments and stir.
Blink your eyes, reduce the pain to a blur.

Those moments foreign, damp within your mind.
The grace of the wicked night may remind.
But always, always the rose sprouts anew.
Always, always, your heart knows what to do.

Look deep in her eyes with your paper mask.
Take a look at the life that fades away.
Burn the bridges, pour the oak in the stream.
Allow the melancholy dissonance.
Wake up long enough to have a breakdown.
Nothing but paltry scraps of peace remains.
You want to wake up, you want to escape.
But friend, it is neither your time or hers.
So, sink lower. submerge beneath the waves.
Regardless of your choice, you bathe in blood.
Tears, salted yet sweet released to the depths.

You look up again, the eyes, they are gone.
Pinpricks remain, lost among countless stars.
Desperately you ravage your surroundings.
Filled with resentment, hatred boils over.
Why are they gone? why must it end this way?
And you descend and touch the ocean's floor.
It's not time, surely it's an illusion.
Perhaps sobriety holds clarity.
Perhaps you run, perhaps you'll find your home.

I have held love in the palm of my hand.
Sifting it through my fingers cautiously.
Holding its sweet down against my skin.
Tightening my grip, to squeeze all it has.
Lost within the confines, my world collapsed.
So, beating the door, I begin again.
Another moment, another soft sigh.
Another cycle, another way to die.
Embracing the lavender, I slip to sleep.

I do not live in this world.
I merely
spy it
through the looking glass.