My body is made of stone.
My skeleton is made up of hellish things.
The hellish things that the weak are all familiar with.
We take them and turn them into weapons.
We turn our weapons on those who made
us like this. Thanks to them,
we are feared by them.
You could say it’s the perfect circle.

Trouble is coming to them and they won't be prepared.

tick, tick, tick.
tick, tick, tick.
the silence is filled
with a steady pulse.
a calming, steady rhyme.
so soft a sound, it could
send me to sleep.

then, an incessant whine
slowly feeds into my
intravenous drip.

We’re thicker than blood.
We don’t share rudeness.
But, once in a blue moon, it happens.

A soirée.
Opposite sides.
One room, two minds.

Except a new monde comes into play.
Brawny, stunning, dark natured.
Everything you aren’t.

I don't argue with idiots.
But you are always so infuriatingly wrong
that I just have to jump in and tell you.

I tell you how rude and unforgivable you are.
How you expect everyone to adore you,
but, honey, I have some advice;
you can't make people like you.

Take that as a compliment.
You'll thank me later.
And then I can say
I told you so.

She was a bright relief
from all the bitty boys.
made me laugh,
made me nervous,
made me happy.
But, of course, it
had to end.

The end came from my night
mind. Too many questions
about the future turned me
from any future with her.

To be truthful, I never saw
anything with her. Maybe I
just faked it for the novelty
of a girl being interested in
me when no boy ever was.

In the end,
only then did I realise that
she was the paperweight,
I, the paper.
It only took a strong wind,
namely the depths of my mind,
to lift her from me and
reveal how I truly felt
about her.
Just a paperweight.
No huge importance.

Of course.

I'm not suicidal, don't worry.
I'm just passive suicidal. I
think that people don't see it
as a proper condition as we
haven't actually attempted.
We only get sympathy from
those who are the same, no
one else.

With mercury in my hand, I
repeat: "I don't want to die,
sometimes wish I'd never
been born at all." Me too.

Maybe it’s for the best
that I feel like I’m on the
outside. Maybe it’s for
the best that I feel the
need to stay quiet.

Maybe they don’t belong
here for me, but they belong
for making me realise what
I need in the absence of them.