I am sick
You should wear a better heart than mine
God loves a dead martyr
Well I’ve been beating my chest for too long
Not enough flesh and burns
Oh how a heart
Breaks with the melody
Of a cake without candles
A suit case without handles
I am made of what you care for
Words, aesthetics, and make believe.
But I was made to die.
Before I go.
I want to hold you
And remind you
This sickness was made for me
And never you.
I want to kiss you
And remind you
This mess was of my design
And yr so much more.
I want to love you
And remind you
That my longing is selfish
And I deserve to nothing as beautiful as you.
