the abundance of possibilities
is making my stomach upset.
i feel like i forgot something,
i feel like i'm always catching up.
the ceiling is getting closer,
i think i'm about to throw up.
everyone's asking who i am
while i dream of a factory reset.

the sun's bleeding into the horizon,
the sun's taking its time to settle and set.
the infinite number of possibilities
is making my stomach upset.

a little bit of violence goes a long way.
say no to your reflection,
watch it fall apart into scattered fragments.
all of them are still you, remember?
now they can be used as a concealed weapon.
if you choose to do so, aim at the heart,
for you're not a butcher, you're a sculptor,
and this shard isn't a knife, but a scalpel.
watch the lines disappear as you cut.
it's unlike you to worry about blood
as long as it doesn't stain your dress,
as long as you lose some parts
in the process,
getting rid of all the unwanted layers.
all of them used to be you, remember?
kept asleep by injections,
kept awake by the pain.
flaws don't have a say on the matter.
a little bit of violence goes a long way.

call me hopeless, but i'd rather sit here in silence,
letting the whirlpool of all the makeshift fears
bleed itself dry into non-existence
before i step out and show my face,
wondering if water damage might ruin the appeal,
diminishing the market value of this small business
selling dull knives and doors with no handles.
waiting for another chemical miracle to come through;
every failure should come with a free sample.
call me hopeless, but i'd rather sit this one out,
slipping away as lights approach from the distance,
holding my spot in line for another imminent breakthrough.

i don't want to adhere to a faith that's unkind,
all this pain i've been holding, i know it's not mine,
but i can't give it back, it made me who i am,
one who lives as a saint will still die as a man.

there's a door that can take me wherever i want,
but i need to obey, to abstain and withhold
my own truth, as it is, for it stains the divine,
but i'll never adhere to a faith that's unkind.

asking questions about things
that shouldn't concern you,
just like your apparent lack of decisiveness
doesn't concern anyone else.
it's your own fault to try an live with,
give it your best shot.
so what if the score
has been rigged from the start,
so what if the odds are never on your side.
your mind is a weapon
that's always aimed at its host.
you don't know how to hope for the best,
but you've gotten so good
at preparing yourself for the worst.
asking questions about things
that were designed to hurt you,
looking for a weak spot.
drowning in hesitation,
hoping to run out of oxygen
right before your own consciousness
takes the chance to tear you apart.

you wish you were invisible sometimes
to hide the scars and bruises on your neck,
'cause once you have been seen you can't go back
to being just a gap between the lines
of someone else's story,
of someone else's life.
now your disguise is too thin to protect,
now you've been noticed, captured by a net that keeps you still.
you wonder when they're going for the ****,
you're counting moments,
but they keep on slipping through the wires,
you wish you were invisible sometimes.

bound by an oath you gave
before you even knew your own name,
held hostage to their righteousness,
consumed by the weight of their sins.
waiting for a punishment that never comes,
hoping for a timely release,
counting the days until you're summoned.
free at last,
free at last.
your only inheritance is fear,
bound by an oath you gave
before you could even speak.