i can feel it
getting close.
empty bedrooms,
filled with ghosts,
hollow echoes,
bloodless wars;
every win
is someone's loss.
when it's torn,
i patch the holes.
when it screams,
i close the doors.
when it rains,
it always pours;
one last dance,
one hopeless cause.
i can feel it
getting close.

i have nothing
but what you gave me,
i've been living
the way you made me.
a collection of hopes and fears
that you put in my head.

i know nothing
but what you told me,
i've been living
the way you showed me.
please, don't be disappointed
by what i've become.

after all, it's not me
who chose this;
after all, it was you
who taught this.
everything that i've ever done
was to make you proud.
god, i hope
you're proud now.

i'm sleepwalking
through my youth,
touching things
that don't touch me back,
wanting people
that break my heart
long before
i can break theirs.
and i wish
i could just disappear,
wouldn't make
any difference at all,
'cause i'm wrong
in so many ways,
telling lies
to pretend i'm whole.
what's the point?
was there one that i missed?
lost the interest
halfway through,
turned to nothing
by half past noon.
i'm so sorry;
i've been sleepwalking
through my youth.

i didn't ask to join
this endless race
towards some abstract goal
that i don't even want
to achieve.
it wasn't mine to begin with,
yet here i am,
dying for it,
locked in a box
with just enough space
to breathe.
who would've thought
that this is what living
feels like?
who would've thought
that this is how we all
choose to spend
our time?
buried in our own homes,
opening more wounds
with each
passing day,
scratching down the walls,
helplessly gasping
for air,
empty on the inside.

love, don't you come
close
to the fire.
oh, can't you see
how it burns?
melting my skin
down to ash and bones;
can't you feel
the longing inside?
forget who you were,
come alive
with desire.
oh, can't you see
how it burns?
love, don't you come
close
to the fire.

if i step into the dark,
don't follow me.
and if i become the dark,
forget me.
for the dark isn't black,
but red,
and it's drowning me.
i won't let you go down
by my side.

i'll write a prayer
to the silence,
a final act
of my defiance.
when there is nothing
left to preach,
i'll leave the altar,
burn the speech.
i'll bleed my faith,
and on the steps
i'll face the crowd
to make amends;
stand on my knees,
accept it all,
and say a prayer
before the fall.