<i>As the songs start becoming more "I love you."
And more "*******."</I>

You're a ******* art project
And I'm the wasted paint.

You're the jaws of life
And I'm the crumpled up car.

You're an accidental adventure I was so lucky to go on.
So sunshine and self worth.
How much of you is real?

I need to stop casually referring to myself as toxic waste.
I need to stop talking about you like you put the stars in the ******* sky
Because it was me.

I did.

I am chaos in a small bottle.
I am more than some tragic masterpiece you painted in 7th grade.
I'm the pure white paint you couldn't use because it never matched your soul.

How tragic.

You touched my walls with your blackened hands and you weren't burning them down; you were bringing them up.
There's no fire in your bones.
You're only cobwebs and I'm dusting these shelves off.

I'm a ******* art project.
You're just wasted paint.

You're a ******* car crash
Under your deadened sky,
Potential wasted in wasting time.

Am I still the only star in your sky?

I was the telescope, all eyes and waiting.
But all you became was a black hole, black tar,
Sticky and swimming.

Swallow me.

You slammed the door when you walked in.
I slammed the door equally as hard when I left.
There's no stars in your sky.

                                                           ­       Goodmorning.