I have this propensity
To never be satisfied.
I’m always wanting more
Starving for something
Though I’m not sure what it is

Why am I trying so hard to provide my greatness
To someone with a mind so small
It couldn’t even dream of
comprehending all of me
Anyways

I don’t know, maybe it’s the coffee—
Black as the night, strong as a decision
I can’t take back,
But I always add too much sugar,
And it never tastes right.

Or maybe it’s the way the sun hits my face
In the morning,
Like it’s trying to wake me up
When I don’t want to be woken,
Like it’s pushing me toward something
I’m not ready for.
I could stay in bed forever,
Pretend the world’s not spinning,
But the coffee's still too hot to hold.

Have you ever really listened to heavy metal?
Not the fake stuff,
But the kind that rips through your bones,
Makes your veins pulse with something
That feels like rage—
Or is it just the chaos in me,
The beat of a drum
That’s louder than my heart?
I get lost in it,
Like I get lost in my own head
Sometimes,
When I don’t know if I’m screaming
Or just thinking too loud.
Maybe the music’s the only thing
That makes sense anymore.

But then again,
I start thinking about how
All this stuff—coffee, music, sunshine—
It’s all a distraction, right?
Just a way to keep me from looking
At the cracks in my mind,
The ones that seem to grow
When I’m not paying attention.
It’s like I’m trying to outrun myself
With cups of caffeine and guitar riffs
And pretending I’m okay
When I’m anything but.

I keep saying I’ll stop—
Stop the overthinking, the spiraling,
The chaos I can’t shake.
But the truth is,
I don’t know how to stop falling.
Maybe it’s easier to keep crumbling,
To let the pieces scatter like broken glass,
To fall apart slowly enough
That no one notices until it’s too late.

And maybe that's all I’ll ever be—
A string of distractions,
A girl lost in her own mess,
Until the last bit of me
Finally falls away
And no one even knows
I was here at all.

They carve my name in marble,
But never spoke it in light.
They trace my letters, like a whisper,
As if they knew me by night.
The hands that reach for my stone,
Never offered any warmth before.
Their silence forged my coffin first,
Long before they grieved.
A king of dust, a throne of rot.
Now they kneel, now they pray.
But where were they when breath was still burned.
When i has still more to give.
Mean mearly shadow in their prime,
Unseen, unheard, only a passing weight.
Only once 6 feet down,
Do they feel to call fate.