i still see her dead in the grave i dug in a forest i wasn't allowed to find made to kneel for men of strength made to kneel for men like you
and i am told that when i smile i give hope to other people so why can't i find a way to give it to myself why is it, when left here all alone i do my best to push the good out for the bad to make room for all the pain like i am back there all again like i wasn't made for healing but the truth is that i'm ripping sutures out just to keep myself here, bleeding making sorrow for myself
how selfish have i been to say that this was more than i can take when i have already moved away when i am free from all the pain that kept making me this way
how selfish i have been to say that i would've rather traded places like the creature in my brain that he placed there for his reign is somehow worse than the grave
i found comfort in my suffering like it somehow defined me or refined me like there was happiness in death or there were freedom in its grip and not the endless night