Breaking slowly
Until there's nothing left but pieces
And what's so good about  
picking up the pieces?
Because what's broken can always be fixed, but what's fixed will always be broken
And you can try to fix me but
Be careful when picking up the pieces of someone who's broken,
Because you might end up cutting yourself
On their jagged edges, on
My shattered edges
Because it's like I'm toxic
And all I do is hurt everyone around me. And I'm so sorry
For everything. And all I'm doing now is over thinking, and over feeling, but what else can I do?