I just can't bottle these feelings up anymore
I stare at the ceiling, picture the swing
The slow, gentle sway, and the thing that hangs hauntingly
A sight for sore eyes
But I wonder what will take me out next
My inevitable boredom, or the questioning of my existence
Then, I realise I don't care—
I just want it to happen soon.
Now, to repeat the same lie
Etching in my skin like routine,
A fond friend to this darkness
Dissolving deep within my bones,
This old yet familiar companion
Of words and falsehoods alike
"Sorry, I really am."
Followed by a quiet realisation
Comes that ****** question
The one I always hated to hear.
"Do you think anyone will miss me when I'm gone?"
Of course they will
Still, I'd rather they don't
I know in your arms, I am wanted
And yet, I already feel guilty enough
From stealing the air from your lungs
Glancing upon the smile on your lips
I never deserved a thing.
So please, don't think of me kindly
Just bid me a goodbye
That will be enough for this weary soul
Don't love me at all, let me rest in peace
I shall offer you one last comfort
As the world fades away,
And the months bleed out
Leaving a shadowy, crimson splash
Blooms across pale skin, lines across the road
I breathe my final words
"It wasn't your fault."
But who really believes that, right?