Blood shot eyes making contact in the mirror,
pleading with the bleeding brain not to think, not to care.

Impaired and unshowered.
Denial runs deep.
Wide eyed and disheveled.
The only thing you ever commit to is drinking yourself to sleep.

And while you slowly ****** yourself,
I toss and turn, dissecting your thirst for freedom
and my adoration for all things unattainable
I try to be more like you; you're talented at being numb

Just how bothered would you be to see our similarities?
And how do you justify acting so different as to yesterday?
Would you be surprised to see that we're both sabotaging ourselves in such noticeable ways?
And how do you sleep at night knowing you could've had me there?
Do you wake up to the memory of my smile and pour another shot, let the alcohol repair?
Or are you convinced that, in me offering myself to you, I have served my purpose?
Am I yet another sentimental soul that fell for your twisted ways and was left feeling worthless?

Please, tell me, am I still myself after you've worn me down to sagging shoulders and blackened lungs?

Not enough strength left within to hold you up on your pedestal
No matter which disguise you wear
No end to confusion, but it's time to stop asking for answers
or for you to care