knock me out.
the things that seem so right
are usually the things that are the most wrong.
broken hearts mended by empty bottles.
the depression has seeped through my skin
and i cannot escape.
force it back down. keep it all together.
drown the ache with some melody.
but it's one hell of a fighter and things aren't
going in my favor.
my lungs are suffocating themselves. the walls
are closing in everywhere i look. my fingers tingle,
maybe in fear of what my mind is holding back.
a museum of heartache.
a mausoleum of people that never really mattered.
my blood is turning toxic
-and i love it.
i'm changing.
i refuse to be the prey any longer.
are you ready?
let's hope to god you are.
because my conscious is turning black
to match the blood i will soon splatter.
are you scared?
you should be.
you're not here with me.
