And every day I wake
And every day I sleep
And everyday I wish for you
To love me again

And how long is forever
And how long is an eternity.

when you said happily ever after
I guess you forget the never.

and I know words can’t describe
what I feel for you, but writing it out
is the only way I can handle it all
the paper is the chance to be known
and the pen is the voice I never had

words can’t describe what I lived
the hell of getting through it
or the heaven that was at the end
but it is enough for it to finally feel real

i am not soft i am not kind
i am not the petals of this flower
because i am brutal in all the wrong ways

and if I was someone else
i would beg forgiveness from above
but all i can do is laugh at the punishment to come

in a room darker than dried blood
in a life quieter than a tomb
i cant help but see the stars
as something else to guide me wrong
i cant help but see you
as someone else who wants me gone

and maybe its not right
maybe the shadow is a tree
and maybe love is a breeze
but i have only ever been hurt
and i have only ever been burnt

and when i smoulder out
trapped beneath the ruins of my skin
all i can hear is the rumble of applause

because you mistake this ruin for reality
and you call it beauty  

and you think that it is gorgeous
the way i bleed out on the floor
gasping for a breath that wont reach my lungs

in a symbolic attempt to show
humanity to be as bright and dangerous
as its greatest fears

and he stutters out a world
wherein he is sadness more than boy
and i can not help but think
he deserved so much more
than the agony ripped into his skin

and if it meant never losing you
the world and the stars
could crumble down to dust.

and i would not only watch on
i would help light the flames
to destroy it all.

and ill give you
one last chance
to show you can love me
the way you would a fire

and ill let you be the arson
to whatever we are gasoline boy

if you know there is more to love
than burning me out of my body

than breaking apart my ribs
for a look beneath at my heart

you are as slick with desperation as you are love,
but i have only ever been hurt
and i do not intend to become another statistic
in another raging wildfire.

i've never been my own person
and perhaps i never will be.

because i am owned and consumed
meant for no more but the amusement
of another human being.

and i suppose its ironic
that i've felt the least powerful
around the people who claim themselves
to have the kindness of saints.

and i suppose it's ironic
that i've felt the shackles binding me the most
when i'm around the people
who preach their love for me.