sometimes I think:
I have no right to be here
everyone leaves eventually
because I'm not who they think I am
people twist personalities like thread on a loom
making them blossom into beautiful designs
but it's all a lie
and waking up from it is like falling off the back of a truck
no cushion for the fall
just hard, gritty cement
opening my eyes to find more
cuts across my skin
I've fallen off too many times
I've watched so many people fall apart too many times
I've lost my right to fall apart
and my right to remain put together
delicate china
glued together over and over again
I have lost the right to live
because it was something I traded long ago with the devil
to keep my heart beating
they took my essence; my rights
and now I have nothing at all
just a body to rot away in
because I know I have no right to use it any other way
