It's nights like these
When I find myself
Drawing the constellations in my wrists.

I feel a filth in my bones
As I try to scrub clean
The dirt and the lies within me
And when the sky gets dark,
So do my thoughts.

I cannot mend my broken heart
Because it keeps cutting my hands
Trying to glue it back together.

As I count the stars in the galaxy that
Make up my wrists
I take a sip from the Devil's cup
And hope he spares me my soul.