We were hopeful fools
To think that your broken could heal mine
To want eachother to be our reason for life
To explore the ruins of our souls
And try to turn ashes into treasure
We were infatuated with the geography of our scars
How truly delirious we were
To try and make them a gallery of art
There are wounds inside of us
Far more painful than anything that ever bleeds
We have shadows that cling to our skins
Like a rotten stench
Yet here we sit
Like flies
King of the dump
Scuttling in search of happy endings