I would rather have a panic attack in the dark room than be alone at home in my own zone depressed on my phone. Then staying up an insomniac, at the park, rising gloom, falling rain, feeling pain, like it's all I ever known.
Attempted suicide, but then revived, choking phlegm, thought I died, I was there, in the hospital, bare naked riddled with needles, poked and prodded, dead skin rotted, almost cried, but I fought it.
Now I knew, I had to go home, and to school, to ******* and moaning and drama, and talking, and floating back to normal society, choking on tears in sobriety, kind of wish I stayed dead cause she gives me glee, ignore what I just said and don't pitty me, as I escape again to a place you flee, when the lit fuse of my bomb rapidly, rushes towards the end, she's gone and done it again, she's wrong and loving other men, I'm right here and paying amends, for **** that I never did, all I ever wanted was to please a kid, with a rotten heart, that was full of sin, I hope the goal was never to win, in this game of life, strife ridden knife stuck on skin.
What doesn't make sense is how she makes me so happy, cause I'm dense headed every time she calls me pappy, or *** or says, "I Love You", it was two months of a misconstrued, confusing relationship thing, now two months without it and it ******* stings and aches when I'm not around her, I want to love her, I want to ground her, ram her, straight into the floor or wall so maybe she can feel my pain, bash her head in a door and make her choke on a wedding ring, while I smoke **** out her mouth like toking while she's bleeding from the throat down to the feet and... in this verse I just finished a talk and I understand that I've been gawking nonsense all along and she isn't with me because she doesn't want to hurt me, but sticks by me because she really likes me.
I feel fine now because I've put the puzzle pieces together and I've calmed down now cause I think I understand Heather.
That's what I'll tell myself as life goes on, living in the prison cell of pain and beyond.

A friend will want you to rid of their loneliness,
A lover will always want to remove that loneliness,
That is why I,
The lover,
Continues to stick with her,
The friend.

yeah, there's no problem. i'm cool. i'm alright. you're fine. no need to plague your thoughts with me.
<decoding>
yeah, there's NO problem. I'M Cool. I'm alRight. You're fIne. No need to plague your thouGhts with me.
<decoding>
yeah, there's problem. ool. 'm alight. ou're fne. o need to plague your thouhts with me.
<decoding>
NO, I'M CRYING.

I'm constantly checking Snapchat and Instagram, and instantly decoding your posts like a cryptogram. In a millisecond my brain goes from using a gig of ram, to oozing out ten petabytes, like *******.
It won't slow down and I'm trying to stay chill, so I gotta down another bottle of pills. This also helps with the hunger that I'm trying to fill, going from starved, to full, to just feeling ill.
Nauseating dizzying feeling and I'm flustered, populating my stomach with crackers dipped in mustard, I don't like food, but I've started to wonder why my ribs hurt, might be the undying hunger.
I can't pull my eyes away from it as I slit upon my thighs and think of a beautiful ***** I'll never get, so I get lost in distractions to forget her. I've come to accept that this is the truth as I accept the cold and give her my sweater. Attempted controlled suicide at a park plus the letter. If she goes in for anything then I guess I will let her. But every time she touches me it lights a fuse that only activates when she's not around, only clutches me closely when there's nobody else in the vicinity inbound making me feel deader.

Anxiety ******* tearing up inside of me. ***** ******* **** with some *** stained cavities and now shes coming onto me entirely. I should be like finally, but instead the anxious brain of mine avoids the blankets and gravitates towards the rhyme cause reality... what the **** is reality? My extended ****** up morality, apprehending the shortness of mortality or all these sexualities?
He, she, they, them.
See me hock phlegm.
Maybe stock them.
Lay low till' ten.
And then when,
They stop,
My pen cap,
Pops off,
Stabs lead into the head of the said ***, already wishing they were dead, but the use of a mag would cause attention, so I'm carrying a handbag full of pens. This is my pencil pushing, pen pushing straight into the gay neck, rushing to **** the wreck of a man and get paid through bills or a check again.

From my anxiety to killing gays, cause I'm willing to get lost in my ways of letting my mind wander, even though I kind of wonder why the gays were on my mind. The ***** that broke my heart was bi, but that's fine. I got nothing against you, unless you hurt me or the ones I love. You get two feet up your *** at once if you harm or speak bad about any of us.

Right when your head hits the pillow and your eyes close,
You are in the first stage of sleep so just suppose,
That someone drops their phone or decides to throw,
Something at a wall, you can easily be woke,
If you make it through this stage without waking up,
Your heartbeat will slow, and your eye movement will stop,
Preparing for deep sleep as your temperature drops,
Possible hallucinations made of mental props,
The very next stage is stage three,
Now you have drifted off into deep sleep,
Delta waves and smaller fast waves,
Intermingled going every which way,
And then stage four is basically the same,
Waking from this state, you’ll end up dismayed,
And disoriented for a few minutes,
You’ll wish that all five stages got to a finish,
The fifth and final stage is rapid eye movement,
Eyes move from side to side and we’re assuming,
That it’s because of the intense dream being perceived,
Then you’re soon to wake and consciousness is retrieved.