life's made up of things your heart is breaking to say, and your head is aching to stop coming out.
lips bruise almost gently.
instead, they spill out into lyrics or lies, falling across a page in ink or blood or whatever we could find.
you have to let people in to see if they're really worth trusting -
i tried it and was left teary-eyed and disappointed.
is this all we have? is this all we'll ever have?
witches hold futures in their hands.
i throw diamonds and glass into the sea -
worthless but pretty.
sums up everything i kill myself to be.
i'm tired of falling.
