Gravesite
Please don't send your sorries
Please don't send your sorrows
And really don't send your pity
I dug my own grave this time
It's okay that you didn't send your thoughts my way
I can't handle my own anyway
My own thoughts build my coffin
And anything more just covers me under
Intimacy
Everyone knows a different side of you
Some know the good, others know the bad.
Yet a whole picture of a person is hard to find,
No matter the intimacy you share.
Someone might know them better
It is kind of funny, how when it is all said and done,
Death and I have been scandalously intimate
For some time now even and no one would have known.
But if you think about it, who else could be here?
As I imagine how tight, would be my noose?
No one knows the embrace of sin better than death
And flirting with disaster, seems to be my new hobby.
So death seemed to be the perfect candidate
And now a caress with a fatal end seems more intimate
Than a touch of a hand against my skin
When a knifes already grazed it far more
Yet i wouldn't dare tell a sole about my call to the void
But I'll tell them of our intimacy as if we were actually close
Walking paradox
I would mutilate myself
If it meant good for someone else
Yet I've stabbed just as many people
As I've been stabbed myself
With scars on my heart to prove it
I just just wish I could undo them
It always seems to me
That I'm the only person doing any regretting
I have trouble seeing the good in other people
So it's hopeless for me to see any in myself
