I carry the torch of this misery.
The bearer of all secrets that kept us terminally sick.
Held hostage by brokenness
Hostess to alcoholism, cynicism, paranoid delusions
A pillar upon which a false empire was built?
Was the straw that broke the camel's back composed of grass or guilt?

A person who feels like home can be dangerous when you carry the blame of destroying the one you grew in.

Emerged from my isolation to walk under the stars.
$11.11 was the total for my holiday purchase of alcohol and cigarettes
I wished upon a scar that I would one day grow to be whole.
I listened to your playlist on the cold walk home.

These metaphors for living pure are cheesy
All existence is chaos
Anthems of anger, ballads for those who have lost
Holding fading souls and cradling hearts like hammocks for the homeless