I speak and make you cry,
and you tell me not to blame myself.
I can tear my own stomach out
with unparalleled willpower,
this is my life in stride.
Full stride.
The walls; black, and orange at the tips.
The carpet slowly creeps up to you,
and the paint curls as if breathing outward.
The fire makes the home come alive.
You know where to find me,
but you wouldn't know what
to look for. What to save.
Full stride.
You don't talk to me.
Full stride;
You can't fix me. We can't fix me.
That's not how this works.
If you truly thought love could
cure depression, then...
ugh...
You've been naive.
There's not a nice way to say it.
Full stride and I'm walking into
traffic with ******* pride!
I'm not involved in a massive conspiracy,
I'm a cog in a lukewarm nightmare.