To breathe air as if it has meaning,
As if it's meaning releases chemicals,
As if these chemicals **** doubts,

As if these doubt's concern, how I have yet to figure myself out.
As if I am an electric chair designed
by my own bare hands.

Sentencing whatever piece of me that is still good to its last day.
Like my slanderous, wicked words wasn't lies, yet they were bits of truth.

The truth of pure hatred haunting me.
As if this truth was to be told, it would cancel out the sun in my make believe, fantasy world.

As if you were doing everything in your power to hold on to that last hour.
Where I would proceed the process in breaking your heart.

Staining it like Scarlet in some liquid form across a porcelain article of clothing.
Red for the loathing I left in your spirit,

To hold against me.
Why in the hell do I hate me?
Because of the times I clouded your

judgment.
The times I made you cry,
What should I feel?

If it's wrong to think that I should die.
Yet I know suicide, is not what you would answer back.

There for I am forever broken until we pick up where we left off at.
Broken by your broken heart.