Maybe I'm tired.
What if I told you I couldn't remember the last time I've gotten more than seven hourse of sleep?
Would you believe me?
I could be lying to you.
I could be lying about staying up, starring at my ceiling with bloodshot eyes, thinking about what a girl, with purple hair and a heart, that once used to be so cold, told me words that i never wanted to hear.
Even if it might have only been in a dream
Evenifitdidntmakemefeelanything
Imtootired
Tofeelanything
Maybe you'd believe me if I described it with intricate detail?
How
The air was cold and the blanket I slept with didnt quite cover my shoulders or my feet
How the coldness touching my skin
Just matched the temperature
Inside my chest
and how
The side of my bed dipped from
Broken metal springs
Just like my bones
That felt close to dust
Because of the exhaustion
Dripping
Off of my being
How
the red numbers on my alarm clock were six minutes too far
From the present
and
How the metal rings on my right hand
Cut into
My skin
But not enough to break the surface
How the hours passed
And i did not blink
I could not look
Away
From the glowing stars I so oh
Deperately wanted to return to
To recycle myself into this earth
And maybe have a slight chance
Of giving back
Some
Of all that I have taken from it
If
It meant
I wouldnt be so tired
But I could be lying.
I could be.
What if I am?
If I told you I was, would you believe me?
Maybe not
Because only someone who has felt like that can put it into pretty words? So I musnt be lying?
This is the age of sin. But you choose the lens you look at the world through
