To finish your own life by hand,
May seem like the right thing to do.
But to free yourself from this land,
Is to imprison those that love you.

all the stars are soaked in tears.
all of the night's darkness covered in concealer
and precariously perched sunglasses.
the moons craters can be healed by some cold water
and carefully applied eyeliner.
but why should we cover what happened?
i mean, it just happened,
it just is.
it's not anything except itself,
right?
there are special tears reserved for the night,
for those particular shadows.
sometimes, it's best that the sun doesn't get jealous
that the moon is the only one who gets to see you like this.
'why love the moon
when it is only a reflection?' the sun asks
'it's like loving a mirror,
it's never going to be real'

oh but the moon knows why you love it
there is no such flattering light
as that which falls on your tears
when you decided to stop brushing them away.

Top hats and bow ties
sweet heart candies and deep red dresses

a meaningless fantasy that I should've never had,
not with you anyways.

Frizzy hair underneath grey fedoras
and bright eyes below dark eye lashes and excessive amounts of eyeliner.

This is life now,
me with my caked on makeup and poorly died hair

tea and nose rings.
Strangely enough, I think they go together well.

Teenage years and a different sexuality,
drivers license and a new gender.

Small crisis and a big smile,
fake laughter, and very real tears.

What a year.
What a year

I'll give you something to cry about!
I'll give you a transcript of all the things you said

a record of all the things you did
a clever recollection for you to look at

after you're done looking at my corpse.
I'll give you a mistress and traumatic time,

I won't, however, give you custody of the kids,
or even allow visitation.

I'll be a cruel *******, and give you a miserable life.
My plan was to get you hooked on money,

and my stupid ******* personality,
dictatorship and addicts withdrawal are sure to ensue.

Miss. Elizabeth Ann,
I'll give you a good time,

only until I find someone different.

i took drowning lessons the other day
turns out,

i'm really good at it.
really good at ******* water into my lungs

and falling asleep
never to get back up

i took drowning lessons the other day
turns out

this feeling
in my chest

that won't go away
and always ******* persists

it what it feels like to drown
burns

a lot really,
more than you'd think

like if they opened your chest,
filled it with alcohol and lit it up

i took drowning lessons the other day,
thought maybe it would wash me clean

i thought
it could wash away the pain.

Let's just say...
That someday we figured it out
We figured out what it all means
Why we are actually all here
Wouldn't it be a slap in the face
If we just figured out
That we were here for nothing
That all of this struggling
And one-sided love
And hatred
Was for nothing
That we were never supposed to learn anything
Never supposed to figure out who we are
Or help other people that we loved
Wouldn't you be taken aback
That we were here
For nothing at all?
That all those beliefs you had about yourself
And about the world
They were never real
And I know that I'm just rambling
But I don't care
What would you think of it
If we found out we meant nothing at all?