My life and being is so scattered. And now I realize that nothing I do or say ever mattered. How do I escape the latter? I guess here’s to my happily never after.

How do I fix my tainted heart?
I’m wandering in the abyss somehow not falling apart.
How do I get back my lost and lonely soul?
It’s not in my fate to have someone to hold.
So as I hope life won’t take its final toll, I’ll try to enjoy what could unfold.
I know this suffering is getting old.
But it seems my fate in someone else’s hands is what’s been sold.

I guess the tides are changing cause I can no longer shed tears.
And I’m also finding new fears in the fact that my death is almost here.
So where am I headed down this rocky *****?
Things are rearranging and I’m losing hope.
Maybe I’ll never find someone to hold close.
I guess I should have long ago succumbed to the rope.

Maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard but I honestly used to care.
Maybe the masquerade took it too far, it was a senseless petty dare.
Maybe I should have offed myself when I was begging to die in my sleep.
But maybe I should have never cared cause everyone was always against me.
Maybe it didn’t matter because I’m always trapped with this fake family.
And maybe I didn’t know that most people run off of greed.
So in these passing moments that I guess I’ll start to rot.
I’ll regret every minute I tried to help because no one ever leaves me anything but a shell filled with negative energy, so distraught.

Let me slit open your throat.
Tie your limbs together and hope you choke.
Stick pins in your eyeballs and hammer them down.
Burn you alive because you make my life a living hell.
It’s the masquerade that makes me do nothing but dwell.
I hope you start to rot because you keep me as a shell.

As I try not to think of the storm, I’ll try not to think about my being becoming so worn.
It’s a relief I’m no longer so torn.
But I can’t take the torment, what’s left in store?
Maybe I’m not golden but I still have a conscience.
Maybe I want to get up but I already lost it.
Maybe I want to breathe some life into my being, but this petty ******* makes everything hard to keep conceiving.
So as I try to pick myself up off the ground, I’ll try to find a happier sound.
Maybe I’ll find someone who wants me around.
But until then I’ll keep hiding until I’m found.

It seems the plot is still distorted.
These people must be demented because there’s no way in hell the same would be for it.
I find it hard to show truth.
But I’ve been lost for so long in the fact that my existence is so misconstrued.
So as I figure out what went wrong and where to go next,
I’ll try to regain my lost feelings in my chest.
As I hope that the plot doesn’t turn into more of a wreck.