Why does my soul strive to lead me towards broken things,
As if my soul wasn't broke enough, my soul likes to forget my memories,
memories of bad people doing very bad things,
My body doesn't need a reminder, as we know the taste of this disease,
it's eaten away at my body before,
making every breath harder and harder to breath in air,
like a mother gasping to bring her child with life again, I mourned,
My soul should've learned by now, I don't dare to give prayers,
to broken and bad things, full of hate and hurt,
these types of people attract to me like i'm in pain,
I don't find my soul like theirs trapped six feet underground in the dirt,
instead, I'll cry longer then the rain,
as if this will wash away my misery rather then hurt someone I love,
but instead my body longs for bad souls like you,
you're down below the dirt my love, and i'm trapped crying for you above,
where you and I meet again has to be different, has to be new,
I'd let myself ignite like a fire and burn,
I'd watch you dump water over my flame,
and expect  me to return,
but the shameful fact is the flame is more tamed,
then the water,
I wanted peace,
you wanted to slaughter,
Maybe I need to let you go, like butterflies you eventually must release,