Maybe it's me,
maybe it's my life,
maybe it's my choice to not feel
the thing is, it's all because of me.
All my fault,
so please...
don't get too involved
or you'll realize you'll have no choice but to leave.
To me, there is no heaven,
there is no hell,
and there's no escape
from me,
myself,
and my bloody demons.
Numb fingers clutch cold arms.
Brittle hair ontop of a depressed head.
Bitten nails for months,
I'll be chucked onto the curb and talking to the shadow people
and, in a normal sense, the moths.
Maybe it's easier if I cut-
cut myself away from my feelings and thoughts.
Maybe it's just me.
Or maybe it's what I feel.
I'm a failure as a friend.
I'm a failure as a sister.
I'm a failure that looks human.
Put me out of my misery-
don't worry,
I won't point the blame.
I'll owe you my thanks
and, maybe, the gun you can use.
Point it at my head.
Go on.
Put me out of my misery.
I am alone.
I'm a monster.
Help.
Can I tell you a secret?
I hope, that, even if you see the real me-
that-that, you'd still love me.
