words put together

i don't feel too good

lately,
i've been dying.

i think i'm dying.

but from the inside.

every time i've died,
i've come back alive,
but this time...

i don't know.

i don't know.

i'm dying a different death.

the kind that takes your breath.

the kind that makes you wonder if there were something else.

the kind that makes you wonder
if your life is really something
or if you've composed so much nothing
that this all seems like something.

the kind of death that leaves you cold.

makes you feel alone.

isolates your soul
and takes your body back
and oh,

it takes your home.

it takes the one and only thing you had
that you could call your own.

the kind of death you'd like to think
would leave you feeling quite alright
but makes you cry and scream all night
and when you think you feel some strength in you,
the death takes it back,
and i might,
i just might,
actually die this time.

i think i'm dying.

from the inside.

from my mind.

from my heart
to my veins
to my hands
to my bones
to outside,
to my pain.

i think i'm dying.

i'm definitely dying.

once again,
the lonely boy dies
on his lonely boy lies
of lonely boy cries
saying lonely boy's alright,
and he's not.

once again,
i'm dying from the inside.

the only difference this time from last
is that i have no one by my side
to tell me that i'll die
and come back to life
and be okay.

i'm just dying.