And these dark thoughts haven't left since the cold morning,
The night before I had once again tasted loneliness and his bitter sting,
And the empty dance of sweat and liquor,
The bodies lost in the night's embrace.
I have feared for my life too many times before,
A will to strike my own heart and and leave it bleeding,
I have walked this line again and again,
A mistake made three too many times.
The mistake of thinking anyone could want me,
To strip my soul of all that feels whole for a shot at empty passions,
The choice to throw myself, to be swept away in impossibility,
To believe for one second, that I could be desired.
But I am cracked, never whole, this sick soul lingers,
And I ache for the possibility that to be touched would heal my pain,
But that is no reality, and I know it is surely not mine,
And maybe I just want to feel empty.
If it means not waking up again on that cold morning.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
And these dark thoughts haven't left since the cold morning,
The night before I had once again tasted loneliness and his bitter sting,
And the empty dance of sweat and liquor,
The bodies lost in the night's embrace.
I have feared for my life too many times before,
A will to strike my own heart and and leave it bleeding,
I have walked this line again and again,
A mistake made three too many times.
The mistake of thinking anyone could want me,
To strip my soul of all that feels whole for a shot at empty passions,
The choice to throw myself, to be swept away in impossibility,
To believe for one second, that I could be desired.
But I am cracked, never whole, this sick soul lingers,
And I ache for the possibility that to be touched would heal my pain,
But that is no reality, and I know it is surely not mine,
And maybe I just want to feel empty.
If it means not waking up again on that cold morning.
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