We tend to be self-destructive And for what do we owe that to? For whom and what reasons, Do we rip these parts of ourselves, Trying to piece it in the oddest of places, when so glaringly obvious that they don't belong?
We cry endless oceans of tears Drowning in them, bizarrely, For our own indulgence! But at the same time, we're thrashing in the currents, Praying for dry land while also surrendering all hope.
We're all honestly just trying to survive another day, no?