My thoughts are all I have anymore.
But the thoughts I think are so sick.
I think about how I could sneak to your house.
I could get you outside and **** myself in front of you
To make you see the pain you put me in.
I think about how I could hurt myself,
So that you would feel sorry and come back.
I think about writing you things,
Things that will eat you alive.
But in the end, they are just thoughts.
They will never become actions.
They will just continue to eat me alive,
Until I am nothing.