put your hand on your chest now make a cut and watch yourself bleed bleed deeply flowing flowing flowing red pouring but that heart it's still beating feel deeply alive still alive despite the pain how?
how is it that you stand there speaking and smiling? every word is a dagger in my heart. you rip and tear the walls. my heart constricts and i am not safe. who are you to do this? be silent; though it pains me still.
My thoughts are mine But, somehow I fear them they speak volumes I often feel deaf they shook me bad i try to hide from the chase they love though, I cry when they fell numb I find myself sigh 'was it worthwhile?' to let them define my worth like that I tend to overthink just like they desire fear consumes me chaining me in its clutches on my knees bleeding crimson a sad reality I accept guilty I proceed vulnerable picture of me.
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the balance arises she points illuminance not the right joint like the sun overdosed in the sky clouds disappear in the high flipped worlds refraction in swords
in an instant speed nightfall glitches in a scream kiss the moon in a double tick the fulls bright convincing a vision trick save the day in no way
spinal chords in the dark serenading the blue but my colors drained from every single hue the center of the system remains golden confusion enlightens a feeling so broken trapped the whole breathing and my lungs are still bleeding
I cannot feel or reel in the things that i deem to be unreal There's a blank spot in my heart a pit that's been teared open and wholly ripped apart
Do not dare falter or stumble in your path Do not scorn or scoff at this nor dare lay a frown Do not look down at me and see as if i am some widowed gal reaching out her hand
I pretend to know where the bird lays it's nest Pretend to know the flowers are here to stay but that's a play pretend, i know nothing except the horrors that stay grey and feed all day I pretend to smile and seem as if i hadn't been bleeding where i lay
Go on with your path, falter not at the widow least you desire to face it's wrath Go on, least you find what's missing then serve your hand, Good man
Lemons into lemonade... That's what they tell me. It's so hard to make lemonade When your wrists want to bleed. The juice stings my flesh And I just want to end. The scars remain on my flesh A reminder of my friend. Pain is the only one I can tell Nothing else is real. Other people will spill and tell The secret of how I feel.
Lemons into lamentation That's all I have today- Nothing but hopeless lamentation- Until life stops dumping lemons on my tray.