Misery is the cruellest friend
She climbs into bed with you and clings to you
Loyal to a fault she doesn't leave your side,
You will feel her cold fingers down your cheeks,
So rough and calloused they leave tracks in their wake.

Misery is Selfish
She hisses when people get too close to you
Too blind to see that her protection causes loneliness
Misery is angry
Crescent indents always appear on your palm
She doesn't mean to hurt you though, she just needs a distraction
Misery is hurt
She cries all the time,
Sometimes she screams.
You attempt to stitch the wound but can't find the tear,
There is no bone to straighten
No graze to bandage
Not even a bruise to sooth.

She's your best friend,
The only one you need in your life
So you hold her hand
Feel her jagged and uneven nails
And walk with her.

When you took your last breath
I died.

Mum❤

I'm sitting here listening
To your voice on the machine
Begging and pleading
this all be a dream
She wrapped her arms
around your heart
Tortured and pulled
Til the beating stopped
Now I sit here asking
Will I follow you soon?
Who's next in line?
Can I meet you on the moon?
I'll meet you on the moon, darling
I'll meet you in the stars
I'll meet you on the moon darling
To pull the needle from your arms
I'm sitting here Nikki
Numbing my own pain
Up the nose, there it goes Nikki
We are one in the same
She wrapped that tie
Around your arms
Tighter and tighter
Leaving only her scars
That minute
That hour
Of pure delight
It stopped your breathing
It stopped your fight
Now I'm sitting here Listening
to your voice on the machine
Knowing full well
It's not a bad dream
I sit here and wonder
Will I join you soon?
Can I meet you Nikki?
Can I meet you on the moon?
I'll meet you on the moon, darling
I'll meet you in the stars
I'll meet you on the moon sweetie
To pull that needle from your arms.

Do you mean the ones who live on the other side?
Clear across the ocean, two miles in from the tide?

The ones that live with little means or the ones that live like we were meant to?
That work, play, stress, fear, and cry, just like we do?

The men who were created from the earth and the women from Adam's rib?
The ones who fall asleep staring at the same galaxies wondering if we're all there is?

Do you mean the ones in straw houses near dirt roads?
That learn how to survive on the land and wear the clothes that they sew?

Others and me,
I'm sorry, pardon me... I'm just slightly confused
Because when I think of them, I think of me
I can't separate the two.