Melancholia 1 2 3 4
All of my sisters of disasters
Some messier some not
It's a calling
it's a fall
It's my insane heart down the floor
Here are some prototypes
Of better versions of me
I could be less this
I could be more that
I am just bare and bruised
I'm waiting for a hand
1 2 3 4 and so many more
Some green monster with sharp teeth
Wishing to be closer than unique for thee
For someone
To be special
To be loved
To be seen
As ugly as pretty
As wise as silly
As devoted as selfish
Oh God I cannot breathe
I cannot tell
More words to choke my truth

I don't want to say it

Every word that I write is so twisted
Around my neck
1 2 3 4 and some of them they hate me more
They shut me
They hurt me
They protect me in their own way
It's a calling it's a fall
It's a aching it's a wall
It is loving and not at all

Cut me here cut me there
Dissect my spirit

Holy and hellish
Pure as dew on blueberries

Everything is dying
How long will I drag this ghost everywhere behind me
It should be dying
All of this suffering
All of these thirsty words
All of these hopeless gazes
All of these empty hands

And this dereliction
Always reaching out for something
An echo or a king
Someone to burn the mess within
Someone to dance in the blood with

Someone who can understand that there is nothing wrong with me

I am only full of emotions

I can walk on thorns with a smile on
I am only devored by personas who all want to be lived
And it's demanding
And it's exhausting

I want to express everything
I want to pour this all out
I'm a river
I'm a volcano
Of passion
Of tenderness
Of frailty and strength

Some soul they feel
Everything multiplied
By all the people inside them
thousand times much worse
Thousand times much more beautiful
It's heavy like a stormy sky
You cannot hold my rain

you're no pain
you cannot understand
You're not in pain
How could you understand

I am so alive
Every feeling **** inside me
Who could understand
That the stars crash in my spirit
And I hear too much
I never rest
I feel too much
I hardly ever rest

Melancholia is made of the spark of youth
And the wounds of knowing
1 2 3 4
You cannot choose only one
I am every version of me
I am not a nice book to read
No one can read me till the end
I am not a kitty to cuddle
Sure these are things that I can be
I keep saying I'll be home
I keep saying I'll be safe
I keep swaying in the dark
For some peace of mind
burning old and useless pieces of mine(...)