These dark sounding piano keys can play so loud in my ears but not loud enough, the crackling chip bag of you is too much, it's unbearable.
I swim deeper down until I can graze my palms against the smooth sand but I still fill your hot sun on my back, burning me, how terrible.
I make poutpurri petals and push your pungent smell out of my room and I spray Miss Dior and mist Dior until I can't breathe but you're underlying.
I inject myself with vitamins and visit every doctor and demand they help me, it's physical pain not mental, but they can't help me, so I'm dying.