Maybe I'm tired. What if I told you I couldn't remember the last time I've gotten more than seven hourse of sleep? Would you believe me? I could be lying to you. I could be lying about staying up, starring at my ceiling with bloodshot eyes, thinking about what a girl, with purple hair and a heart, that once used to be so cold, told me words that i never wanted to hear. Even if it might have only been in a dream Evenifitdidntmakemefeelanything Imtootired Tofeelanything Maybe you'd believe me if I described it with intricate detail? How The air was cold and the blanket I slept with didnt quite cover my shoulders or my feet How the coldness touching my skin Just matched the temperature Inside my chest and how The side of my bed dipped from Broken metal springs Just like my bones That felt close to dust Because of the exhaustion Dripping Off of my being How the red numbers on my alarm clock were six minutes too far From the present and How the metal rings on my right hand Cut into My skin But not enough to break the surface How the hours passed And i did not blink I could not look Away From the glowing stars I so oh Deperately wanted to return to To recycle myself into this earth And maybe have a slight chance Of giving back Some Of all that I have taken from it If It meant I wouldnt be so tired But I could be lying. I could be. What if I am? If I told you I was, would you believe me? Maybe not Because only someone who has felt like that can put it into pretty words? So I musnt be lying?
This is the age of sin. But you choose the lens you look at the world through