Add that: in all of my pointless comparisons, I am self conscious of all the ways I am similar to everyone else, unoriginal and ununique. To summarize: I am lame. For who cares whether or not others notice these things? They are figments, merely. But- I am aware of my primary, incessant concern- myself. I notice, naturally, with no sense. It is totally normal for me to engage in this self conscious nonsense, without end. I desire to be a robot, lifeless, but what good would awareness do then? Self conscious about a few loose bolts, the whole circuit would short, and that'd be the end of me. It is the schism. It is the juxtaposition between caring about myself and about others, of everything and nothing, and I cannot find the balance. I am a teetering pile of flesh pancakes. **** lame.
I'll be stuck on you until I'm put to Rest Look into the future just to see my Death Lying here lifeless now I know I'm Next Lying here crying waiting for your Text I'll be doing this till my final Breath Will I ever get better or just die A mess People want people cause people want *** But I knew there was more from the day we Met Cant take back the tears and the time I Spent I loved you and didn't know what it Meant
Do you sit in the corner, and gaze around in greyness? Does this universe too smother your breaths? Does pain palpate your wounds? Do you yell over your own wrecks? Are you as empty as I am? Dear life, are you too lifeless?
I burned our old photographs, it fell down like dried leaves in the autumn The classic gallery of our love that was once fascinating became a tedious one The once white walls and clean corners Are now dusty and dark The perfectly carved frames, and perfect shots became dull and lifeless You left me knowing that I won't survive alone inside this ***** walls Picture me in your mind And you'll see the saddest photo there will ever be