This chaos is fragile
Inside my brain
Made up of you
And this heartbreaking pain
I need you to tell me
I'll be okay
Three simple words
I need you to say
A day
Feel empty
Without you in it
Life
Is a game
And I want to finish
"I love you"
Would be so sweet
I'm so cold
And I need your best
Lonely hearts
Don't do well alone
My heart is made of glass
And you're throwing stones

Fragile
Like glass
That's what
You called me

Is that how I'm seen?

Cracked,
Shattered,
Broken
With a single push.

The pieces,
Never being the
Same.

Did you always
see me
as broken glass?

Was I some
Pity project
For you to "help"
For your own benefit?

Yet
When you thought
I would shatter
I didn't.

I may be glass,
But
I'm bulletproof.

Demons held in jars on my shelf.
I pick one up and talk to it,
"I think I'm wrong..."
Malice and the dead look in its eyes answer.
"... You're nodding. What do you know?"
When you go, will you haunt me?
Demons,
freed from their jars on my shelf,
run wild.

Grasping at the speed of light after the shining antique.
Missed it by a hair, I blame my physique.
As my hands swim in the shatters of my heart, the vase filled with dreams and all that got discart.
The carmine liquid flowing out of my very own skin.
The regret, the shadow will be left within.
As an empty broken vase, oh isn't it sad.
For I alone understand the visions I had.
As I throw the shards of my life away, the sin.
I finally remembered an inch of his grin.
I should've known it was bluff, the eyes that has seen all, but I would not be enough, so my dream has finally made it's fall.
His silence cannot be tamed.
Lost in the blood and the shards he was framed.

The pitched sound of glass that breaks and I just fall
The surprise as it slips from your fingers.
Bleeding while you're trying to save it all.
Lost forever, this feeling lingers.

Trying to fix it, but failing hard.
Doubting what to do as your hope starts to fade.
It hurts more than to just stop and fall appart.
Gleaming with the failures you've made.

Puzzling the pieces is harder than I thought.
The wounds in my fingers are not helping.
It's all for nothing and I've fought.
My fingers full of glass and the bleeding isn't stelping.

The glass can never be saved, what's done is done.
And when your life is flipping upside down.
And you realise, all you did is run.
You see the blood and you hear the sound.

You never wanted it to drop.
You didn't even realise.
The clinging sound in the cleaning mop.
Nearly pretty, your demise.

His silence can't be tamed.

5 am blue reminds me
how to touch G on the piano.

there aren't many words i can think of to define it, really.

but i do know it's like crying. quiet tears welling and holding someone tight to your chest, imagining what it must be like
to feel something holding you together.

it is gentle, the way you would comfort a snowflake, the center of a child's eyes. the shy flower that unfolds like precious origami in the dark.

it is the silence, sound of breathing.

it is delicate, like trust and empathy and
understanding.


it is what i want to play for you.