The walls are cracked
They’re stained with water
Don’t try fixing it
Just don’t even bother

The sinks don’t work
The pipes are always leaking
All the beds creak
I don’t even try sleeping

The doors won’t close
The handles won’t stay
The grass won’t grow
It just rots away

Every window is broken
If not shattered
Its always so cold
As if it ever mattered

All the paint is chipping off
All the wood is breaking apart
It reminds me of my wounded body
It reminds me of my broken heart

It reminds me of myself
Of what I’ve come to see
That this broken home
Is a reflection of me

The world is not as it seems
I've seen my life end a thousand times
In someone else’s prognostic dream

I have no name just a rank
As my years from home towered
My faith in humanity sank

When I commit suicide can it be said I died in battle?

I fear I am trivial
The last of mine kind
But I am not endangered because nobody cares

I see the world for how it is
Patterns, patterns within patterns repeated
A once unstoppable force now crippled and defeated

I do not morn or pity the dead
I envy them they're better off in my head
I'm the survivor but to what end?

When I commit suicide can it be said I died in battle?

My goldfish died, number three hundred and five
He was all I had in the world, he was my world
But I'll buy another bringing him back alive

I don't miss my family
I wasn't taught how
It isn't my fault I am cold and shallow

I've killed and saved
I've reassured those who'll never be cured
But when I'm dead I'll be called well behaved

But I'm the light of the world just more depraved