Makeshift wings allow faded dreams to fly,
And all these made-up stories kept us so alive.
On stage you claimed to become so real,
What's it like acting just so you can truly feel?
The make up looks too fake up close;
Your smile's painted on in a lazy repose.
You always bled like it helped you live,
Weeping in tune to a ruptured lullaby.
You insisted, "it's really not even suicide."
With apathetic care i asked what it is,
In blood you merely wrote "my latest murder."
When is your life not even yours to take?
Gave your best attempt at a quick death,
Were the pictures in my mind worth your time?
Awakening to the sound of cinematic tears.
Imagining that we're strong enough to sing along.
Misery and agony spilling viral images to my mind,
Do you see what I do just for your own sake?
As bodies contort into mangled poses,
How could you smile at the sight of that?
Life serving as a mundane prelude to death.
I'm always the soldier with an imaginary cause,
Fighting pretend demons to elude reality.
Why do you expect me to risk my life; to live?
Midnight created our foretold requiem,
the moon and stars bled colorful lies.
In a dazed rush of blood and bliss,
We sheltered each other from life;
When we sincerely just wanted to die.
Our blade carved us such beautiful wings.
But you don't need to fly; to enjoy a good fall.