I think I made you up inside my head,
I yell in between the lines of words I should've said.
I convince them it's really not me, but
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I want to drop dead at the sight of you,
past six feet under, unfortunately making enough room
for us two.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The whole world crumbles when I hear you speak,
screeching my sorrows, blurting my name.
I wish you didn't weaken my already fatigued physique.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
You're composed of doubts and wait for collapse;
until I start where I was always at.
You leave me with chasms, unfilled gaps.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
You're from Hell itself, the deepest of low.
They're from Heaven, and left without a note.
How many more shots until the final blow?
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
Inspired by the great Sylvia Plath