listen, there's a fire deep inside the places so unknown
where the orphans and the rejects found a place to call their home
and it's crumbling to the ground
watch now, loners and their lovers must avoid the flames below
while they hold their breath and hands and disappear into the smoke
and they're fading quick, like ghosts
nothing looks the way it should and footprints trail across the street
dragging soot and ash and sorrow on the bottoms of their feet
someone smells of gasoline

there's a flood within the mothership and no one inside swims
noses struggle and make bubbles and their lungs can't seem to win
water overwhelms and drowns
memories of a brighter moment thrown aside by crashing waves
someone used to love the ocean and the salty sunny days
oh my, how things have changed

nothing was the same

you look down at your hands and notice drops of gasoline
you'd think the smell would wash away like water you released
your home was trying to grow legs and longed to finally be free
your only happy healthy hideaway was so far out of reach

you had no choice
but to **** and drown and hurt
you had no choice
you watched the home you just built burn

something about destruction pulls you close and draws you in
losing everything you've known before it leaves just means you win
nothing's changed, you've always been this way
lighting matches, digging your own shallow grave

I don’t expect you to understand me because right now I can’t even understand myself. It’s like I’m purposefully pressing my self-destruct button. No, it’s like I already have it pressed and I’m fighting myself every single day to keep my finger on it. To not let it up. Because as long as it’s not released it won’t go off. My life is like a grenade and I’ve pulled the pin. I don’t know why. Sometimes – scratch that, oftentimes—I sit awake at night and I think about how to die. Sometimes I almost follow through. The button slowly inches upwards under my finger. I’m not always strong enough to keep it pressed. I’m almost certain that things will end for me. My pain here seems to far outweigh the pain of those I’d leave behind. I’m scared of myself. I don’t want to hurt anyone but I want to die. I want to die. How am I supposed to reconcile that? My brain is broken. I’m broken. I don’t see a cure, but no one else sees the cracks. I feel like when I shattered—and who knows when that was, I could’ve been born like this—when I shattered, I think some of my pieces went missing. How can I fix myself if I don’t have all of the pieces? How can I ever be okay again? I imagine myself as a teapot that was dropped because it burned. Now I’m a leaky good for nothing pile of porcelain that will never do anyone any good. It hurts to feel like this. I just want to stop hurting.

of all the things i've ever loved
you deserve it most,
and i am inadequate.
if drinking's a sin
and drugs are expensive
how am i to numb this?
i've never craved anesthesia
until tonight

school taught me about bones
but it never mentioned
how caged they would make me feel
i'm trapped in this body
restricted by the only thing that's truly mine

no one likes a broken mind
everyone pities the girl with scars

and i don't understand
why some are born happy
and others with a deathwish

and maybe i'm not meant
for this life