Making sense of what is lost
I get by but what matters the most?
The same old question that tears me apart
I’ll stare at the walls till the sun goes up
we came from cinders, we’ll turn to dust
What sets us apart from fucking grains of sand?
What’s the fucking point if nothing’s meant to last?
oh spare me your fucking happy song.
and suffer through,
what difference did you ever make?
you stared as I slipped
what difference does it make when death won't care about your name
I fucked up
I bit the hand that feeds
and sat back and watched it bleed
but at least I didnt drop to my knees
to lick the wound fucking clean