bathing can’t get me clean. what you dumped on me won’t come off with soap, bleach, or gasoline. i’m fadingout of focus, losing sight of my self as what you've put on me consumes, corrodes, and entirely consumes what was left of self-imagery. sure, it was never sterling, and it certainly wasn't gold, but I at least had faith left in most parts of my character.
now i’m just rusting away, and soon they’ll come to start demolition.
leave little notes to linger in the mail leave letters unwritten to wander your mind leave songs ringing in the halls and leave me alone, you're gone for a reason