| with people I don’t talk to or even talk shit on anymore, |
| I want to talk about them with you. |
| I want to tell you about my past, |
| I want to tell you about trips I took when I was running away |
| or fist fights I got into that got me out of class. |
| I want to tell you about everything, |
| I wish you could’ve been there, |
| I wish you could’ve saved me that summer I swore |
| pictures of planes crashing into bridges was the only way to express how I felt, |
| making broken seals in dissolvable stitches |
| tracing new found veins into each tiny digit, |
| and staring at screens, |
| living life around a battery, |
| «oh i’m sorry, I can’t go out, |
| I’m stuck inside, |
| watching everything eventually go.» |
| But I’m happy |
| because if you let me |
| I will watch you die. |
| I can’t take how easily the earth moves underneath my feet |
| but i’m too restless to sleep, no I haven’t even rest in weeks. |
| I’ve been trying to find myself in others |
| similarities that I could see |
| is this all real life, or is this just all bad TV? |
| Why are we so afraid to watch the dead when they finally die? |
| Is it because we see their opportunities pass them by? |
| There’s a family in a cemetery, |
| there’s a family in a home, |
| If I can’t even afford a grave for myself |
| than why am I so afraid of dying alone? |