you called them my demons, yet they're the ones who stayed soaked in my mistakes wanting more, always wanting more and more and more.
virtuosic apologies sent off like love notes in shaking fingers and blushed up cheeks won't save this.
I'm road ****, lost will, broken records, creaking floorboards complete incompleteness, shattered and broken and waiting. I am the metaphors that still ******* feel like broken glass.