Cutting my wrists with a feather,
painting my blood blue,
bruises all over me
tongue is itching, cheeks are shivering.
Snowflakes like bullets,
bullets are missiles
tearing me apart,
pulling my strenght down.
She's climbing my walls
made of plastic
and rotten leaves.
Fragile broken thing, my determination.
What is determination here?
My will to be tortured forever.
My vertigo is reaching its fever,
popping like poisonous bubbles,
and I'm taking a sip on this wine.
Acid flavoured wine.
Determination's just another piece of my aching puzzle.
Another bubble that will pop.
And this is not her place.
Perhaps, I'm not her place.
I should not be here.
I don't belong to her.
God knows,
I don't belong anywhere.
