I'll brood in quiet contemplation
Waves of indifference wash over me
I've been sitting on this cracking pavement
Bored to tears but still brimming with apathy.

I'm not choking on ambition
I'm not feeling a ******* thing

So tell me dear. Assuage my fears.
That these tears don't flow in vain.
Your self harming is disarming.
Such an alarming way to cope with pain.

So I'm still waiting for your self hating to start abating but you won't listen.
And so you cry, afraid to die, the blood is dry. Still knife glistens.

So you wear wrist bands. Trace scars on your hands. Give into demands of your heart soaked in crimson. So draw the blade when the scars fade and don't you dare evade the questions.

Will you not come home? Are you not alone? Aren't we made of stone, of which will crumble? Is there too much strife to get things right? 'I hate my life,' she mumbles.

All of my life I've been picking at scars and scabs
Mending my bones and counting the stars and
Everything I've known has just disappointed me
But I can't let these disasters keep on defining me

All of my life I've been sitting in silence and
Watching myself be affected by the trivial things
Biding my time and biting my tongue so I
React out in anger at the breaking of illusions

Are you burning out for answers?
Have you finally given up?
Did you think you'd ever find them?
When is enough enough?

Your burning fire's fading.
Your light is dimming down.
There's nothing left of valor.
What goes around comes around.

And I believe I'm sick of me.
All these fads. And all these popular magazines.
And I believe I'm sick of me.
I'm so tired of not knowing what to

Be alone. It's all we've ever known.
But all we know. It falls apart.
Singing on and on. I've known it all along.
But now I see that everyone here's gone.

But it isn't me you're seeing.
Halo. Lights. My ears are bleeding.
Waiting for a sad song to begin.
Lost in thought, my head is screaming.
Warning signs and empty feelings.
Thinking of the things that could've been.

And I believe I'm sick of me.
All ****** up and I'm just trying not to

Be alone. It's all we've ever known and all we know just falls apart.
Singing on and on but everything went wrong
And now I know that all of you are gone.

My problem is that I have to play the devil's advocate incessantly. To the point where I turn the best of relationships on their heads and seed doubt into everything about it.

And I can't ******* help it, you know? Like, is it not bad enough to be self destructive? Do I have to be destructive too? Do I have to tear at the hearts and minds of people that love me?

Can't I just simply love them in return?

No.

I have to claw and mangle. Unappreciative and unimpressed. Emotionless and cold.

What a striking indifference. Is it a lack of self fulfillment? Is it just a masochistic need to push myself from others. Is it a plea for help? A cry for attention?

Does it even ******* matter?

We so often talk of breaking bones and slashing skin but never how to fix or deal with it. As if, in the back of our minds, we hold on to these sufferings. Because they're the things that make us feel human. And ain't it the only thing that matters?

And it's every breath, every finite movement of the hand against wrist. Every bit of our existence is a defiant stand against God. And it's God that has abandoned us. It is God who has left us all.

And so abandoned, self destructive, we break bones and slash skin. But we don't pray to God to save us. And we dare not trust our friends. Not our family. Not ourselves. We'll just wash away our sins.

I've got a misguided belief that everything will be alright. But I still brood in disbelief almost every single night. So I sit in my room- teeth clenched and eyes closed. And think about the things about you I miss the most.

How you smile even though everything's gone to hell and how I get depressed when things are going twice as well. About you laughing in the car about some offhanded remark that I made when the piece of junk wouldn't start up.

I said I'd wait for you here
I'm rooted to this spot forever
It seems I'm stuck here in this place
Until the sky is falling.

She said you never write of falling in love. And I could only reply I write about things I know. Like losing trust and cutting wrists and breaking bones and being depressed.

And she told me to write about something else. And she said that it might help. So I'm writing this instead. But her voice still rings in my head.

But I'm not waiting for the answer. I'm not hanging around for this.

We make excuses, not progress
And the hint of the dawn is killing us

And it's the horizon glow
Behind trees and skylines and ways home
And it's the way that the sun sets and sunrise
Through windshields look to my eyes

Like no one is watching.

I hope that you're watching.

I guess sometimes the words get caught on my tongue
Amid the torrents of thoughts that only massacre the outcome
Like I'm choking on the only words that seem important
The "I love you's" and "you matter" get lost in the indifference

And I've tried writing you a letter, but my head gets lost in my heart's confusion.
So I just sit there staring blankly at the paper right in front of me
The words just come so slowly and I wait for them impatiently
The sun sets and I still try to write something for you perfectly.

The sun rise through my windshield isn't anything as pretty as your blue eyes

I chose music over my friends and now I don't have a single one left. I guess what I'm saying is you meant more than music ever did.

And it's a bit ironic how these words become the next song. And I wrote them to replace all the friends I've already lost.

I'd rather choose to die young than be stuck here forever taking pills and taking shots and hoping my heart will feel better. Taking chance after chance but it feels like I'm dying. Not from fear or disappointment but because my father is crying.

And if I feel disenchanted, I hope the feeling won't last forever. I've been choking on words that are the only ones that matter. And if you wait for me here, then I swear I'll come back to you waiting patiently but I just don't know what to do.

Or what to say or what to feel and if my heart is made of steel, then it's not broken, it's just rusting. It's just heavy on my mind. And all the drawings and the letters, and the praying I'll feel better. And I'm not breaking, I'm just bruising. And how I wish that you were mine.