Wasting BreathMature

at night i am lone but flesh and bone, 
an existence i'm not sure good enough
for the oxygen in my system, 
circulating like fucking mindless cells, 
god i don't know what's good enough for this world 
and what isn't 
when shit changes 
every fucking hour, 
at night 
i am flesh and bone 
and fucking weak, 
i am let to my thoughts 
that harbour day in day out 
that i am lucky to drown 
in everything that i love, 
at night 
these thoughts are like souls 
that aim to murder 
like a suicide to my dreams 
and my god wouldn't that be lovely, 
isn't it sickening 
to think of how sultry some think it is, 
they compare it to sex 
they think that it's just as orgasmic, 
but weren't you the one 
they had to tape your veins back together 
little girl, 
my god 
you think it's beautiful 
you romanticize yourself 
day in day out 
because you think 
you have a hero 
coming to save you 
from yourself 
you think 
that it's darling 
how people fawn over 
how sick you've become, 
but can't things go back to the way they were, 
at night when we were flesh and bone 
crawling along the sky 
savouring just how poisonous we were, 
when we were alone to ourselves 
how we could think as sickly and gruesomely 
as we liked 
god did it feel good didn't it, 
to find new ways to entertain ourselves 
in our head 
drowning in our own tub of blood, 
they thought it was glorious, 
but god am i sick of thinking 
that maybe my oxygen is wasted, 
maybe i like the days 
i know that 
i am the fucking brightest star in the sky 
and maybe i like 
when i feel safe enough in my own skin 
that i don't endanger it, 
i'm sick of thinking 
that i am low but flesh and bone 
in a world of caskets

The End

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