i see things in the dark,
quick flashes in my mind.
the voices scream in my ear,
saying "you deserve to die."
maybe it wasn't real,
but i saw you here last night.
you grabbed my throat,
crushing my esophagus.
you reached inside of my chest,
ripping my heart out.

i wondered why took my heart from me when i would have given it to you, had you asked. i wondered why you stole the air from my lungs when, all along, i breathed for you.

you ripped at my skin and broke my bones.
you tore my eyes from my skull and forced them to watch as you tortured my soul;
and when you were finished, you threw the glue at my feet and demanded i fix myself.
maybe it isn't real,
but              
       i            
          am
                 fine.

these things i see so often, can you tell me if they are real?
they have been haunting me for so long.
it's almost time to say good-bye.

these things i see so often, they are coming for you too,
you better run and hide:
they will devour every inch of you.

there once was a girl who sat upon a swing;
this girl was broken, all she could do was sing.
she sang a song filled with sorrow, hopelessness, and pain.
she sang so beautifully, the stars called out her name.
her singing was perpetual, just as a star shines.
if you sit on a swing, you can still hear echoes of melancholic chimes.
her death was tragic, that of a star;
she fell from her swing and was left with thousands of scars.
the pain was enough to rip her apart,
so the broken girl took her last depart.
along with her, she took the stars from the sky;
and created the moon as her final good-bye.