Vivid tears caressing burning flesh,
breaking here without you (this silence kills me.)
and you left my heart a mere open wound-
knowing it can't bleed only makes it worse,
Poison blood etching your words unto my soul...
would this mean any more if the scars faded?
My own screams end up feeling so worthless.
who am I to put any set value behind pain?
what gives me the right to assume you care at all?
between delirious hope and unanswered questions;
I lost everything I thought I'd once known,
I never knew how to define what's "right".
If I'm always so wrong then help me,
show me how to eliminate such a fucked up past.
'cause suicidal thoughts seem so weak now...
but ignorance resides within forced optimism:
and I don't want to have to fake a smile,
when nothing's right behind such a mask,
verbose riddles only hide truth until they're understood.