I've been growing too comfortable with shooting myself in the foot.
Through my foot, the floor, and into your head.
You tore me open to steal my heart blindfolded.
You leave me to bleed anyway.
It's not like you'd help me any other day.
My chest feels heavy, like someone has passed away.
I know no one is gone but it feels this way.
I guess you're the only dead one to me, and long to see your face,
but it's ok...it was for misery I was born someway.