I‘m not a person,
I‘m a place.
Splitting paint,
shattered glass,
creeking
with every step you take.

They‘re scared of my past,
afraid of the ghosts I can’t let go.
Barely anyone comes to visit,
and if they do,
it’s only once
before they leave
again and again.

Some people come
just to break me even more.
Another shattered window,
another broken door,
taking things
without asking before.

I‘m a haunted house,
of course no one stays,
no one comes prepared
for the ghosts that haunt me,
and how dark it can be.

Stuck in a cycle
like a song on repeat
until you get bored of it.
Thinking nothing else,
nothing new
is ever gonna come.

Stuck in a cycle,
where i get better
then worse
than ever before.

Stuck in a cycle,
yearning for recovery,
but at the same time
wanting to get worse
and worse
until the cycle breaks.

Stuck in a cycle,
never knowing
if and how it will end.

I thought I found My Thing
The one I'm the best at.
That girl walks in,
just at day one.
She's talented,
pretty, perfect,
better.

All my years of hard work
crushed.
Within seconds.
I'm not good enough.
Ever.
Am I?

Every time I think I found My Thing,
it gets taken away from me.

I know I'm selfish but
why
only for one time,
Can't I
be the best?

It takes one look into your eyes,
and I can tell you're not alright.
The words you don't say aloud
lay heavy on your chest at night.
Every time you cry
I wish I was allowed
to give you a reason why,
a will to live, a will to fight.
I want you to be alright.

It took one look into your eyes
to know you would rise
high into the sky
after you said your last goodbye.