Nothing worth it.
Nothing, worth it.

Square, plastic, bitter,
how is the void overwhelming?

I could be gone
too, you know.
No you would never know,
but you would wonder.
We all wonder.
I wonder

I can't scream here, that's the problem.
Actually, it's the crying,
I'm not right now.
I deserve to be inconsolable,
I don't feel honest otherwise,
and I'm not.
I'm not.

I want to see you,
and you're dead,
and all that implies.
I want to bleed,
for it's own sake.

I can't stop thinking
the thought
that it wasn't mean to
be like this.
We were meant to be,
but not like this.

That's it.
No revival,
no redemption,
no last line of hope,
just
so sad I'm angry.