I am so imperfect
That I destruct myself
In loving you this much
While you destruct yourself
In loving her so bad

How many haunted handbooks
Will I have to read
Before I shake you ghost,
And convince it all to leave?
When will the food I eat
Ever settle in my body?
How can I learn to trust
When I am set on self-destruct?

Read this carefully
Look me up and down
Maybe you will see
Another human being

If I tried to count the times
The thought of you has crossed my mind
And how this shouldn't be
And why you've chosen me

Well tonight I grip my knees
As they're pressed tight against my chest
And I am left to feel alone
But can't go through with it
Tonight I beg and plead
Only to be free
To go back to the life I had
Why does my soul feel so bad?

One more day then one more week
Then why were you thinking you would ever want to leave
Even though it all settles to uneasy
Don't make this your eternity

I'll never learn to love
I'll never learn to trust
Read this carefully
This letter is set
To self-destruct

WE'VE KILLED IT.

We’ve killed Humanity.
And don’t remember
What it used to be.

We’re surrounded by fights
And nuclear weapons
We’ve killed it.
We’ve killed Peace.

We’ve turned into murderers
Unknowingly, unwillingly,
But now the habit just won’t
Leave.

It’s become habit to
Exploit
It’s become nature to
Destroy.

they are old friends of mine
self doubt, self hatred, self destruction
their black gaping eyes
look at me knowingly
their bodies vibrate and pulse like anxiety
blood pours from their mouths when they speak
they whisper quietly that I'll never be good enough
I can't make myself happy, they remind me
how could I ever make anyone else happy?
they smile and show sets of teeth between red
entering uninvited, late at night
screaming obscenities and mocking me
demanding my time and energy
reminding me of all my shortcomings and failures
moments in my life that I was not enough (or too much)
and every moment coming, with premonition
I seat them into my home
though my consent has never been a requirement
they drip and ooze into the carpet
leaving thickened black sludge
and back handed compliments
identifying my worth based on shouldn'ts and didn'ts
         welcome, I tell them
though I don't want them here
         stay as long as you need to
I barely mouth the sounds of a silent cry
they expand and fill the room
until I can no longer breathe and they crush me
underneath their weight, and remind me I did this
to myself -- I welcomed them in, after all
I created them, I brought them here, and they are
mine

I am a freak of nature
I am control
I am the silence in your voice
When you can't seem to hold
I am the one you push around
Just like a *****
I am the one
You keep begging for more
I am control

All these words
Running through back of my mind
Leave me alone
No I can't stand on my own

Start to humiliate you?
You're acting like you're the only one
With what you've been through
Leave me alone
I will stand on my own

All I am is a **** burden
Then why am I not forgotten?
Calling me just to ******* argue!
Did I disappoint you?
And let you down
You can't even grasp with what I've been through
Leave me alone
No more talking
Through back of my mind!

I'll lead you where you want to go
I'll never let you loose control
I am control!

You made me this way
And I couldn't stay away
Or did I choose to be this way?
Either way
I am my biggest ******* mistake
Mr. Self Destruct!

he's the one that knows everything that is you and he is like half [sunny]days spent inside because he burned easily and you didn't like the feel of the medicine between your fingers when you rubbed it on his skin.

You are tired and shaky as you lie next to him on a bed filled with [half]forgotten ghosts and almost[remembered] stories about when he used to want to stay up late like little kids and just [talk]

He is a deformity forgotten because it doesn't [really] matter that he can't hold you the way you want him to after a long day spent taking care of him. {it doesn't really matter} but it does.

You are almost done with all of this and you wish you could give up, but obligation won't let you leave him all [alone] with himself because you know it scares him more than anything to be without someone.

He is {never knowing what he is} thinking when you stare at him from across the room because he refuses to talk about what is really bothering him and that [bothersyou] but you don't know why. {Because he's supposed to trust you with his weaknesses}

the things you'll do after emotional abuse.
They try to love you, you run.
They try to get close to you, you push them away.
They try to break down your walls, you build them higher.
And when you realize, that you are in fact all alone..
after everything's said and done..
and that emotional abuse from the past shows his face again:
you begin to self-destruct.
Crying, sobbing,, you just want to be held
but to scared to be.
Trust issues and depression begins to define you.
You have no one to blame but yourself.
& you continue to spiral,
dying inside a little more every day
until you're in your dark room, all alone once again,
and that razor blade
pretends to be your friend.

i spoke to
a stranger
with a
hair-trigger
self destruct
button that
they wanted
to push:
and god,
how i wanted
to help-
but when
it came time
for me
to leave,
i left.

How peculiar it is,
all that we keep alive with our thoughts.
I wonder,
whether it is as photosynthesis is to the plant
and a flower is yet to bloom,
or whether our faces will become blue
in the name of fallacy.

Think wisely.

I love the wind’s howling.
The breath of God surrounds me.
It’s angry and loud.

It says
Destroy yourselves!
and we do.

Well we do a bit,
but we’re so obsessed with living.
What the hell for?

******* parasites.

i feel you pulling at me
drawing me back to you
with each whisper
my bones react,
your hand on my throat
my blood singing your name,
craving destruction.

We're just a bunch of ****** up teenagers

living in a ****** up society

and people wonder why we're all

hitting the self-destruct button

It is incredible how quickly my rationality was lost
and I genuinely considered taking a blade across my skin
for absolutely no reason.

It's as if my progress means nothing to me
and I am just a spoiled brat who isn't getting attention
so I choose to hurt myself.

It's been almost three years fighting this urge
and it seems to be that it literally will not go away
but I won't give in.

Please don't let me find my self destruct button.

People label me as one of those very observant ones they have ever met in their lives. Whatever I think about others, is close enough to ninety percent of the truth (not to judge, of course).

And it is also truth that those who laugh the most, cry the most. I guess this also applies to those very positive people, who are the most negative in their heads or they've also been through the most negative incidents.

There is a certain boy, a young man, who just entered the twenties stage of life. I observe and read him, and I have been doing this for the past eight months.

He is quiet, he is kind, he is a very bright person who looks out for others, probably too much. He is smart and has attended top schools and won several competitions in the martial arts, as well as performing and fine arts. A very artistic soul, quite opposed to his rather playful countenance; though beauty is displayed in all his capabilities and striking features. Even the way he speaks is soothing and gentle, and I admit I would sleep to it and regret how his voice is too nice to be literally slept on.

I know a part of his painful past with the spinal tuberculosis accident or the fact when he couldn't enter his dream art school. And perhaps, a darker part of his history that is unknown except by him and his close ones.

But I can see it, I can see it on his face, in his actions and some of his words: sometimes he tries to get attention by doing unnecessary or silly things; says the weirdest of phrases; he gets tired and there's this certain feeling lurking in his gaze. He always looks like he's looking for something, for someone. He always looks like he is wondering about everything and anything. He even looks lost or frustrated on some occasions.

Honestly, a Sadness Collector knows when another is nearby or in sight. I am one, and I know he is another. He always wants people to depend on him or for them to think that he is alright. It's not so bad, but I wish he would rest his little fragile heart that can only take so much of others' sadness. He still has his own sadness to keep under all of that. I want him to give some of it to me that the burden and tears may be shared between us, and he can live a little lighter.

But I love him, because he is a different Sadness Collector. He always cheers others up and tries to help. He always compliments others. He is always willing to learn the right way, to go out and do his best. This Sadness Collector doesn't deserve to be one; he deserves to collect happiness instead.

Although there are times when his friends say that he is quieter that usual, and a bit less active. He says he usually sleeps it off and feels better when he awakes after. He says he rarely gets stressed but when he does, it's a whole different thing and only he knows how his own mind can destruct his built-up facade of confidence. Maybe he gets too quiet at times because he thinks he might make a mistake again. He may appear very vain and very confident, but I'm afraid it might all just be an image that he's painted of himself for everyone around him to see.

His music taste is very much like mine. He shared some alternative music, but as soon as I heard the melody and read the lyrics, it doubled as a small cry of distress.

I’m actually very beautiful when the world is pitch-black
The most I’ll get is being consumed when I try to love
The trouble is irrelevant
It doesn’t matter what’s wrong

If only I can be flattered just like you do
Then the torment around me will perhaps die out
I’m not concerned about how many chances I get
As fearless as a giant; indulging myself; however I’m no match

Ugly, don’t turn the lights on
The love I want is haunted on the pitch-black stage
Ugly, in this ambiguous time
My existence is like an accident

Some look beautiful after a drop of tear
Some just throw away their name
As long as you are hypocritical enough you won’t be afraid of anything, right?
If the script is written well, who will be more dignified?
I can only silently face the beautiful innocence
There are many chances for desire to become drowning in alcohol
Like the fearlessness of dust
Becoming ash, who will remember who
Who cares if he’s a match

Ugly, you won’t blame them if you get used to it
Get high and stomp on it with strength
Ugly, this is our time
It would actually be a shock if I don’t exist

Oh, how I want to embrace him every time I think of him listening to that song. As emotional human beings, we pay attention to such lyrics more often than not, that reflect the listener's or our emotions. Maybe he thinks he lacks in many, many ways. It is normal for him to think so. But I hope he doesn't dwell on it. He likes this anime show that I watch, too. That show, though, is a sad one which shows the masks of society and the gore of the past behind every flawless present.

He is a very trustworthy friend; a funny guy who is "in love" with himself; a talented individual who loves people and language; an artist of most arts, as well as an art himself. And as much as I say that I want to be the one who collects his sadness or whom he shares his load of sadness with, sometimes I doubt he will ever let me.

I feel like I can no longer do anything anymore for him because he is the one who has already collected mine.

Help me if you can
It's just that this,
this is not the way I'm wired
So could you please,

Help me understand why
you've given in to all these
reckless dark desires.

You're lying to yourself again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it, you're pounding on the fault line
What'll it take to get it through to you, precious?
I'm over this. Why do you wanna throw it away like this?
Such a mess.

Why would I want to watch you,
Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time?
What's your rush now? Everyone will have his day to die!

Medicated, drama queen, picture perfect, numb belligerence
Narcissistic, drama queen, craving fame and all its decadence

Lying through your teeth again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it, you're pounding on the fault line
What'll it take to get it through to you, precious?
Go with this, why do you wanna throw it away like this
Such a mess.

Why would I wanna watch you...
Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time?
What's your rush now?
Everyone will have his day to die!

They were right about you
They were right about you

Lying to my face again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about, you're pounding on the fault line.
What'll it take to get it through to you, precious?
I'm over this. Why do you wanna throw it away like this?
Such a mess, over this, over this!

Disconnect and self destruct, one bullet at a time
What's your hurry?
Everyone will have his day to die!

If you choose to pull the trigger,
should your drama prove sincere;
do it somewhere
far away from here!

My heart is life bomb
With a count down timer
And it beats faster now
Reminding me my time is near

I wish that life wasn't so short
It had a lot of bad days yes
But with some good memories too

I see no paradise above
I don't think I'm on fire either
I only see the world
With no fairies in them

As my timer approaches zero
On this life bomb with no reset
I just lie back and wait
Waiting till I self destruct

The clock makes
a sleepy revolution.
The hands are dragging,
moving so slowly.

Agonizingly slow.

Time won't move
fast enough, it seems.
But why
should it move faster?
What is there
to look forward to?

It feels like if
we could just get to
this enigmatic "future,"
we would be safe
and life would be good.

So we dawdle away
the present.
The present that was once
the future.
We just wait.
We don't realize
that we are in control.

We ruin ourselves
with false hope
for what lies ahead.

We brush away the chance
to choose our own fate.

We self-destruct
when life doesn't go
as planned.

We forget
that we never
had a plan to begin with.

We are our own
worst enemies,
but we need
someone else to blame.

So we blame "life."

Yeah, that same one we
Wasted.

Glass ticking like cold plastic

My fingers thrum hopelessly in the hopes of drumming up a solution to a problem with an issue of loss.

This dilemma has found me at the end of my rope and I fear the knots in my stomach are only getting tighter as I squeeze you closer to me now.

Why can't I help me?

I won't let you do it for me.

But must I force feed you the truth?

I'm not hungry for this day any more. Fighting this sickness, I choke back another spoonful of medicine...
--And what am I supposed to do now then?!

Frustration consumes me.
I am bile. The emptiness inside, that fills me with rot.

I'm hollow!!

Somebody save me from myself!   I want to self-destruct and not be okay anymore.

I want to fly a Subaru into the sun on fire.
I'm just so ******.

Just leave me behind and maybe I can decompose into something useful and that actually wants to be here and maybe after that I can finally float away from here...

Wouldn't that be okay?
Why should I have to stay.

I never belonged here any way.

when you know, you know,
that's what everyone says
so I think I know, you know,
and now of course,
I am going to run from that
hard and fast
just because
I am on
self
destruct.

This is a story about dante and about him having nothing left with his life forgiving test...
Dantes always been quiet, sticking to himself, finding it quite hard giving his trust to someone else, he's been there, he's tried it.    
No one is exempt from being targets of his riot. But first he needs to fight his own battle from within. A small little issue that caused his anger to begin.
His dad was never there, but he always seen him everywhere. The question that will forever haunt him about why he didn't want him?
Death and iniquities find pleasure in trying to taunt him.
They want me!
everything I've been going  through is making develop some type of sick disease.
What do you demand from God when your favorite word is please when you get down on your knees.
I often wonder if you think of me often.
Memories, I held onto them for years, but then I lost them. Better yet tossed them. Mom, you did your best, and for that you should never frown again. I want to see your crown again.
laughter? You once knew it but you'll never make that sound again. You should've left dad in the same place that you found him in.
Everyone of us are in the same pool that he's drowning in. we help to hold your head up but then you always  let us down again!
Satan's at your door, with presents on the floor. You know you shouldn't answer because he's been in and out before.
Try not answering to his pounding on the door.
He laughs at your falling magnitude, then you can't be yourself because you're thinking were all mad at you.Thinking that way will have you with a self destroying attutide.
Self destruct has been on your mind while I was growing up. Look at our family now, don't you think that we're low enough? Maybe it's my fault for never asking how your holding up. I figured since your old enough that it's given that you know enough.
When your role model doesn't live enough and you know that he is giving up, how can you escape the pain when it's apart of a chain that has you lifted up?
Oh, I kinda get it now! what you do comes back to knock me down when it comes hurling back around.
I realize I'm your flaw, no drug can match me cause im more potent than them all.
It's your call.
you pint me to the wall so you would never have to see me fall. Is that better than having to stay watch you suffer, suffer though the pain while you try to fight back but you're failing to maintain?
What's really on your brain?
I'm a thinking dude, and mainly when I think I only think of you.
I bet if I pick your mind I'll find that's what you're thinking too.
I use to be the best at what I once did, remianing the best artist that is, but I don't draw anymore, all I do is write.
I find myself crawling when I know that i should stand and fight.
It's complicated. Giving up is what I seen from you, it's seemed easy from my point of view so why wouldn't i contemplate it? You taught me how to draw, i dont enjoy it anymore so you can take your teachings right back.
Lying as you left the house, promising you'd be right back.
You hurt me! You hurt us! Woe to your mistrust.
It would've been easier growing up if someone told me that you mastered non fiction. Listen, you'll never understand the cries that your contraction provides. But still I raise, only leaving sorrow in my eyes.

I haven't slept for nights,
Waking up in my trials
Mistaking midnights for mornings,
Tired by the lack of dreams
And a need to see the ones I think come true.

I work like a clock now
Going round and round
Rising up only to fall,
Its all a routine,
The ticks follow some more lost ticks.

And I walk through rooms across rooms
Not noticing the doors,
And I end up in places I should have known
But I still don't,
I'm lost in a city I grew up in.

I listen to people as to how they failed
And I convince myself to follow them,
Though I know my ways but I abandon them
Due to my lack of trust in self and I complain of others
Never trusting me.

I sort through the truths
Discarding the unacceptable,
Constructing a few new
And feed them to the ones I meet
Watching myself crave for a confession and becoming a lie.

I ask others of their well being
Making through their masks,
And then they ask in return
I can't trust the words I reply
But they do.

I go out hating my home
And out in the world I see the filth
So I return alone.
The things I could do to better
Instead out there I become one with the guilt.

And I fall in love
And pray to fall out the next second,
I look at us and see how he is better
And then I look at the lovers
And pray that we never become them.

And I fail, I fall
As I stand steady
Grabbing at air for balance,
And I look around for stability
But instead I self destruct!

I always feared
that someday
you would somehow
self destruct

Everyone has a self destruct button.

Some will never know their own. Some will live

In fear. Some mask it, being a glutton.

However, the most I know will relive

The night it happened. A time of weakness

When they pushed it and drove themselves insane.

Each story has a certain uniqueness.

But please, I beg of you, try to abstain

From acting upon the thoughts inside that

Evil brain. Stop forming your fingers in

To guns, instead of that take a look at

The good things in your life that make you grin.

Because you see, everyone has at least one

Good thing that can make them put down the gun.

I can't tell the difference between what's for the better and what's for the worst. At this point everything I do is to self-destruct.

Go choke on your delusional idea of love. No does not mean “change my mind” No does not mean liquor me up, get me good and drunk till I can no longer verbally reject you. My slurs of terror and anguish as I try to shove you off of me. Did it make you feel good? Did you feel like a real man- To take what was mine. Did it boost your ego? You had no right to sneak into my bedroom and steal my girlhood. I was 13. Chaos seeped into what was a serene life. The torturous and endless cycle continued for 3 ******* years. What man is so weak? So weak that he has to take what he feels he’s entitled to, from a little girl. I can never get back what you stole from me. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove the assault even happened, but the trauma can never be erased from my mind. The skin replaces itself every 7 to 15 years, so scientifically speaking your hand prints are still eminent on my skin. This flesh and bone is no longer mine. That home I took my first steps in, was no longer mine from the moment you creeped in. But you do not own me. I can still recall the first time I frantically searched for a sharp object in all the clutter, just trying to make myself distasteful to you. But you ignored the blood dripping from my thighs, dismissed the warning signs as if you were colorblind. Nothing could stop your calloused hands and feeble mind. Years later, your pressure still stands heavy on my heart. I labeled myself as damaged goods. But I am a ******* work of art. And I can’t undo what you did but I can use my voice to speak on the pain you’ve caused me. To raise awareness for those still suffering. You did not stunt my growth because I am in full bloom. I will not let you define a single part of me. I will grow as you regress. As you destruct everything you come in contact with. I will touch people and I will make jaws drop. I will be someone. Just watch me.

I tend to forget to tend to my wounds, forever failure in focus
Self-improvement is out of scope.
You make me feel as if I should have succeeded, that the happiness came under false pretenses.

I tend to forget that laughter cannot be measured, neither the grounds on which they occur,
Nor the amount in which they are manifested.
All the happy times are irrelevant, because the ends don't justify the means.

I tend to forget that everyone, including the mentally disabled, desire to advertise their strength,
Their resolve in the face of the adversity between two people who
Claim to love each other, long after the love is gone.

I tend to forget that no one is as naive as either of us make them out to be, that none will
Absorb the previous problems at face value, and
That there are two sides to every coin, as all life suffers from the conflicts of dualities.

I tend to forget that your constant quest for social acceptance is what
Has made you a person uglier than you truly know.
I see through your act; an addiction to be validated, and your pretty portrayal to the spectators.

I tend to forget the analogies between dirt and flower, but no one stops to think that perhaps
The soil from which nature grows is more beautiful than what it blooms,
As it is the foundation, the core, the element, which is hidden from the pretension of the colorful.

I tend to forget how much I once desired to be the voice of reason, now the voice of rhyme.
Forever cursed to be well-versed in poetry.  And I know the reason why,
It is just a hypothesis, but I truly feel that there is method to my madness.

I tend to forget the discipline involved in making dual voices similar, one in sound,
Other in beat.  Like two hearts in conjoining cadence.  Reason
Does not do it all justice.  This is my way of making sense of it all.

I tend to forget that anything that grows together, flows together, such as the written words in verse.
The flowers may distance themselves from the dirt from which they arose,
I will remain below the sunlight, hidden in obscurity, watching the Heavens of your lies from the Hell of reality.

I fall in love with self-destruct buttons.
Those little red ones in films, you know.
Ticking time bombs waiting for the clock to count down.
One day he sobs into the nape of my neck
And begs for me to hold him forever.
The next he sits an inch further away than usual,
Slips into the old routine
Of breaking my heart with too few words.
Silly old girl, pouring my heart into a broken cup.
Pieces of me slip through the cracks.
I’m left to gather myself alone.
You’d think that I would have learned
Not to fall so hard for those little red buttons.
I haven’t yet.

Pop
Push
Use
Snort
Smoke
Shoot up.
Pass out and repeat.

Cut
Burn
Bleed
Bruise
Scab
Scar.
Cover up and repeat.

Starve
Binge
Puke
Weigh
Work
Weigh
Don’t eat and repeat.

Lie
Scream
Cry
Plead
Hide
Run
Give up. No repeats.

but then I dreamed
that I would
self destruct
too

Dear Girl,
I really really love you, yes I do.
Not like it used to be, I'm no longer "in love",
It's something different, that I'd never felt before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.

Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not "in love" like I used to be, I'm something else,
It's so strange, and I've never felt it before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.

Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not like I used to be, I've changed a whole lot,
It's different, my heart doesn't want "in love",
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.

Dear Girl,
This poem was a long time coming,
But I wrote the story when I didn't know how to be me,
Now wrote the poem when I grew some brains,
But I always really loved you,
Dear.

Sweet Girl,
You didn't deserve those late nights,
Where I killed your insides, when I made you cry and cry and cry,
They made you love me less, they made you numb, and you fell out of love,
But I really really loved you,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
I've never been anything you deserve,
You had to pick me up off the floor, and it was more than you needed,
You pieced me together, but the person before you, she sabotaged me,
I had a destruct button you couldn't see,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
Neither of us saw it,
We both thought I'd healed, from the awful things that happened to me,
You didn't get to see, but the person you were, you stayed with me,
When I became a nuclear disaster,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
I try not to blame,
But you'll never understand how your mother was the Tsunami and Earthquake, and I was Fukushima,
We both didn't see it, but I was a nuclear plant, and meltdown waiting to happen,
The damage was too great, that June,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
I never understood,
Even my own actions, because I loved you from the start, and I don't know what happened to me,
But in times before you, people built me, and you just became the new plant operator,
You didn't know I was so unsafe,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
Nuclear plants are rather safe,
They just can't handle Tsunamis and Earthquakes, because they're made of materials that crack,
Under that kind of stress, I didn't just crack, I crumbled, I began melting down,
But you didn't know and I'm sorry,
Sweet Girl.

Sweet Girl,
You've been through a lot,
The Tsunami was hard, but you didn't know about the radiation, that it would destroy you,
You were mutated by the horrible conditions you had to live through,
But you didn't know and I'm so very sorry,
Sweet Girl.

My love,
You didn't know it,
But we were both reactors waiting to blow, disasters waiting to happen, to cause destruction,
We mutated each other until we didn't even know who we were,
I'm so very sorry, so so sorry,
My love.

Poor Girl,
I really really try today, yes I do.
Not like I used to try, but now I try to be strong, and not a nuclear reactor but more like carbon fiber,
But carbon fiber is brittle, since you killed me inside,
But I forever love you,
Poor Girl.

Poor Girl,
You've cleared your rubble,
Growing to be the most amazing and beautiful of skyscrapers, you're an inspiration for the world, you know,
You're so much different, standing taller than you'll ever know,
But skyscrapers can fall too,
Poor Girl.

Poor Girl,
You make yourself content,
Being alone, you tell yourself that alone doesn't mean lonely,
That you find peace in the solitude,
But solitude is an empty thing,
Poor Girl.

Poor Girl,
We can pick each other up,
You don't even know, it's not the same kind of picking up that we tried before,
This picking up can only go up,
Because we don't even care to feel sad anymore,
Poor Girl.

Poor Girl,
You don't even know, how much I want to kiss you,
But it's different than before, it's more like the kisses mothers give to children,
When their children are crying, the kind of kisses that make great statements and tell stories,
The stories only kisses can give,
My girl.

Why is it we forget
we get so caught up in each others eyes
we forget to look at the sky
we forget who we are
who we love
scold it.
Whats the price of your soul?
cause you sold it.
To the routine that makes men seem
to like killing everything

You better learn what your doing here.
cause if you don't know
your doomed to be
another phantom in this clustered place
always coming back
no matter how many times the stage dies
it has to repeat the building of this place
cause where else are we going to go
nowhere else can house a lost soul
the universe is the only place to go
anything else is so illogical.