It must make you feel good that you broke me.

Took any stability that I had, and invested it in lies.

It chokes me.

I can't remember to breathe...

I see your hands around my neck, but I can justify it to my last breath.

The hand prints on the wall don't match my own. But you don't care that you never saw me clearly.

All you care about is the satisfaction you get from the aftermath.

I'll clean up the broken pieces. As long as you remember that, your the reason I'm left incomplete.