All those I know come from broken homes
Old houses of memories shattered by sticks and stones
I've given myself out over and over again
I fear I'm nearing the point where I can no longer feel the warmth within
How the fuck am I supposed to believe and feel after she walked away and told me that her love was never real?
I remember as those salty stinging tears fell from my eyes, she looked into my soul and she told me she never even tried.
I've fucked and felt nothing and have laughed at who I once was
I've torn out pages and scribbled out the ink
Cracked the skull of the old me upon the kitchen sink
Strangled the old me and dragged him away
I feasted on his heart, dug my nails into his face.
If our souls should intertwine
Become one and combine
Fatigue and fall apart
Why even start?
My palpitator ceases beating
Now fill the void with ash
Avoid the pain of repeating the past
At last I smile. The truth has set me free.
This house has burned to the ground and buried the old me.
I spit on the grave of where this fool lays; what's left over is just bitter.
So fucking bitter.
Bitter and gray.
The old me is dead.
This is a rotting wound that will never heal.

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