Scorched earth dripping from my fingers (you know how sometimes the smell of smoke can save lives?

and how sometimes I'd prefer I slept in)
glistening a while as the pieces crumble into invisibility.

I'm ever waiting

To become what I make, and

I don't mind if you let me think I'm winning the race until I've lost you
completely

If I don't speak please don't take it to heart, my best years are gone but you can have my ghost

If you wish to. I'll be here. Ever writhing, tied to my promise: no longer screaming. My silence

Is the best gift you could ever wish from me, if you knew me well-enough you'd know that to be true.

I've took on so many names and faces and manipulation tactics, at this point I'm a one-man-cult

Victimising shadow's,

I'm kind to myself now but I still feel nothing mostly, but that doesn't have to be your problem
Any longer

Than you make it, I've grown up some with little option otherwise. I'm yours I'm yours I'm yours, for as long as I'm willing to be dragged around.

Fallen weak,

Ever-bleeding as long I can breathe without thinking.
Some memories are better left untouched and some regrets taken to the grave and some people left to crumble themselves to nothing again and again, undisturbed for as long as can be expected.

Don't wait up for me, you'll end up as good as a prayer for the dead to return.