he lives in here
ship in a bottle
something you cant achieve.
i truly think i'm not meant to be happy. i had my chance, and i squandered it. now i am victim to the torment of those who surround me. i'm sorry i couldnt be the person you wanted me to be. none of you are free from sin. you will not receive forgiveness and you shouldnt hope to achieve it. your legacy will remain the cruelty you put a child through. all ive ever wanted to do was to love, i couldnt even have that?
all i am, all i am is a puzzle to be solved.
it's taunting me. when is it going to fall? i'm waiting. i'm waiting. i'm waiting.
im sorry that i cant be strong enough for you. im sorry if i die. im sorry if its by my own hand.
i heard birds chirping in the middle of the night. isnt that strange?
i hurt and i ache, same as you. why is it, then, that i am undeserving to grieve my pain?
ive been crying a lot recently. i dont know why i cry. my mother says it is because i am depressed. i am not sure if i believe her.
ive come to find that when one asks, "are you mad at me?," theyve already got something brewing in their mind, a biomechanical weapon they intend to unleash upon you whenever they deem themself to be a "safe distance" from your answer, "no. why would i be angry with you? i have no reason to feel negatively toward you."
and then they wreck you, they strip flesh from muscle from bone. the only thing they've no access to, the only thing they cannot injure, your bone marrow. it is something to keep, "close to the chest," in a manner of speaking.
im tired
im tired
im tired
im tired
im tired
im tired