(while my younger days slowly lost meaning,
as these eyes can no longer see naivety)

i've learnt the art of pure hatred way too early,
as if it was no one's wish to let me feel compassion
they taught me how to turn my love into aggression
and they promised me we would turn out just fine.

as if that's the only way to deal,
not teaching me how to feel.
a child who grew up with nothing but confusion
since the beginning, though, i knew there was an illusion.
hidden in between these late phone calls
and the lingering scent coming from his room
i was calmly waiting to bloom.

this kind of pain i've grown used to,
it has turned me into a selfish love seeker
torturing myself until i'm nothing but weaker,
and maybe that's what this demon wishes
the blindess of youth
stuck on its roots.

playing dumb is an end game
but me, too, have learnt how to turn pills into closed eyes
and how to turn love into a calculative mind.

i can't save you anymore
it doesn't matter because i never swore.