One hundred cuts and one too deep. All they can do is watch me bleed. Into the back of the ambulance. On the way to the hospital. Problem was they were too late. Now I am classified as dead on arrival.
I sit alone in my room thinking. Why does this always happen to me? Why is the struggle so fucking hard? And my self-worth torn apart? Now I know, and the reason is me. For the struggle is hard, but I've torn my self-worth apart.
I love how everyone thinks I'm fixable. In reality I'm just miserable. People still only think I'm broken. But honestly it's more like destroyed than broken. I'm more destroyed than fixable. Sorry to break this to you. But it is more like I'm destroyed than broken.
Need or want to vent but I have no one. I'll nor have I ever been fine. Want the pain to be done. Yet the only way is if I die. Guess the cruel world won. Soon it will only be a final good-bye. Cause I have no one.
My real smile's been gone now for a while. Trying to be happy but fail at it now. So my smile is fake. And I'm about to break. Funny how you all think I've been okay all along. But my real smile's been long gone.
Caged bird wanting to be free longing to fly. Now this bird just wants to die. All he does now is scream and cry. Unloved, uncared for, he cuts blood drips to the floor. Just wants to be loved and is dying to be free. For those who want to know who it is. The caged bird is me, and I'm literally dying to be free.
Years ago, when the war took my life in cold bloodshed and explosion, I wander endlessly through the city of bones, constantly in search of that sweet music that my lover plays. Sitting on the stump at night, he sits in silence as people walk by, the only noise from him they hear is the music and song from her dark violin of despair. Even with his lover now gone, how he wishes to hear the sound of her voice. Damn the war for stealing his lover and hearing. I see him sitting by my grave alone, he plays with great sorrow, that fills my heart with such anguish. How I long to hold...