You told me that you believed equilibrium splits
Good and evil,
Keeping the weight of Earth constant.
But if I showed you that there are more scars
Softened into my veins than space on my back
For you to caress,
And if I told you that when they opened me,
Surgeons found my heart was a metaphor for Hell
And my thoughts penetrate it with gasoline,
Would you still believe that charisma comes from experiences
And not from the mistakes of our parents?
I was tired and unprepared,
Couldn’t seem to balance your tears with mine,
Look here where he touched me,
Will you touch me there too?
I was walking for home but only found myself
Again and again and again
When will my tragedy end?