too weird to live, too rare to die

i. this is gospel

***A/N:  All bolded lines are lines from the song and do not belong to me.  Everything else is mine.  I do not own TWTLTRTD and am not in any way affiliated with Brendon Urie or Panic! at the Disco.***

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this is how it ends:

in a dark room on a white bed with masked beings in blue scrubs and latex gloves hovering over you,

and you are barely breathing, drifting in and out of consciousness like a child with a fever while they work,

instruments of precision, sharp lines of cold metal gripped between pale fingers cutting into a sickly white body on a sterile white bed,

(later on your mother will weep and wail into your chest as she tries vainly to stick up your hair and mourn the loss of your pretty brown eyes and though you never agreed on much or really got along at all you were still her son and she was still your mother and you will leave a hole in her heart that no one else will be able to fill)

and perhaps it is this thought that rouses you, or sets you free,

because lights are flashing and your head is spinning and suddenly you're wide awake and your heart is pounding like there's no tomorrow and you're pulling against the binding ropes and they're pushing you back against the bed and you should be thinking save me, save me, but you're too far gone to be saved and they should stop trying, because you're not everyone's perfect little angel and if they really cared about you they'd let you fall,

down

      down

            down

                  down

to the place no one dares enter,

the threshold no one dares cross,

but this song is not for them--

this song is not for the living,

but for the fallen ones

locked away in their permanent slumber;

for the vagabonds,

the ne'er-do-wells and insufferable bastards,

people like you who didn't know the meaning of good

and stumbled one foot over the other into bad situation after bad situation like you couldn't help yourself,

(or maybe you just didn't want to be helped);

and she's watching with tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouth as they force you back into unconsciousness and try to save you once again,

but how can you explain that you don't need to be saved--

that you don't want to be saved?

if you love me you will understand--

if you love me, let me go.

***A/N:  good God why did I never finish this book @ me get your shit together***