I am tired, so tired of breathing the same depression polluted air. I can no longer breathe without exhaling razor blades, they cut my throat just like when i say your name. I told myself that my thoughts weren't devoted to you but they are starting to be and how I predicted this summer would be sweet. .it is bitter with the taste of your lips and the cigarettes that you smoked. I have fallen. Not for you but for sadness, for the razor blades, panic attacks, the thoughts of death and all the rest. I'm not saying I'm in love with it...I'm saying I'm in love with the fact that it replaces you. Because surely that is what I deserve.
They never seem to ask what you're tired of