My heart was left splattered
The room has been left untouched
Blood has dried on the walls around me
But he walks around scraping it off
My body quivers in fear
His nails drag on the surface
But his eyes stay on me
White paint peaks through
I feel like I'm about to puke
Taking the broom he sweeps
My broken heart right to me
As if his cleaning was helping me

My yellow nail polish is chipping off
I'm an amalgamation of skin... Too irascible at times.
Whatever feeling the burn on my finger holds,
It's never for me to find.
But my broken nails say otherwise.
I've taught myself to be quiet but every other bubble has to burst right?
Morbidly watching time pass me by.
I feel older than I should be.
Like my entire life flashed by me and it wasted itself in one of the new year fireworks.
Milisecond lasting sparks.
16 years of them.
Sparks that ignite fires sporadicly over the wrong beings.
Ain't I a walking masterpiece?
The pretty girl carrying fire in the pockets of her jeans.
Spark up my existence if you could.
Kick-start my delusion.
Perhaps I'll be able to understand my own vision.
Dreaming away life ahead of itself.
I'm getting the hang of it.
My writing stopped putting in the effort to make sense.
Or was that me?
I'm feeling hazy in another universe.
Fading away rapidly.
Running up and down my stairs
I fear the day this house'll be empty.
So I remain home in despair.
I wish I could see myself clearly.