Why do I drink?
Is there somthing wrong?
Obviously, its not why you'd think.
Im just living every sad song.
Every loneliness.
Every misjudgment.
Every heartbreak.
Every last moment.
Every fake friend.
Every false love.
Every attempt.
I just pretend,
till the day's done.
Its to fill the empty place in my chest.
To let my guard down,
so I can feel again.
So I can shed tears,
and get seratonin.
See, the bottle is my only true  
  companion,
that sticks by my side when I've been
abandoned.

"can I see you tonight?"

already **** well knowing what the answer will be.

still I ask,

because I don't think you know what you do to me, tracing the grain of your skin... you don't know how long I've waited for you, I'd pass the time drinking gin.

you used to move me
like sweet notes sung by a violin
but I can't wait forever,
my patience is wearing thin.

walking on these egg shells, trying not to crack
when all I want to do is yell
"you're absolutely crushing my heart, please give it back."

"I didn't think to ask"
you say; isn't that such a shame?
when you look can't you see the discrepancies between us?
does it not shake and rattle your brain?

I wouldn't think twice to climb a mountain for you in the pouring rain,
but honestly, sweetheart...
I don't think you'd do the same.

and that's alright,
because this is my domain,
I now make the rules to this game.

things will be different, I'm not going to lie.

this is what happens when I'm made to color inside the lines.