I used to believe in innocence until I lost it.
Life isn't lonely but I am alone.
I used to be in love and full of love until I cut my chest open and watched butterflies come out then turn to rust.
They say if you're burned at stake, you're a witch, but what are you supposed to do when the nonbelievers finally believe and untie the knots from your stomach but you're still burning alive on the inside?
These thoughts run deep into my brain and down my spine and I'm thinking that maybe if I pull all the content out
and throw it into the lake where all my dead friends are staying afloat, it'll sink to the bottom where my hollow body is stagnant and put out the flame.
How am I supposed to sing the words of life to your songs when I don't even know my own? How selfish.
I am trying to be the bigger man but I am burning to the ground and my time is running out.
You said "there's no such thing as dying from a broken heart."
Well the next day I proved you wrong when I turned that graveyard into a garden.
It's easier said than done when you're not the one screaming into empty jars so your voice is muffled.
At least that's what it feels like.