I'm glad that it was me.

When the moon turned dark
And you didn't know what you wanted to be
When you hadn't left your mark
I put the blame on me

When the scale started to tilt
And blood was all I could see
I watered your flower to not wilt
And kept mine away from the sea

In the silence between heartbeats
There's a loyalty I must keep
No matter how much I bleed
No matter how much I weep

And when you cause me pain
It means nothing
Because although you understand me
I guess that means something

If I hadn't been blamed
For something I didn't do
If you had been blamed instead
Who knows what you would do

I will carry this pain from mountain to fjord
If it means you will succeed
If it means that you are alive today
Then I know it was meant to be.

I'm glad that it was me.

I feel how I believe an apple with worms must feel. I am aware of my desire to ripen and be eaten, and I am also aware of the *****, crawling creatures inside of me. I will be cut open, and they will see the dirt brown rotting of my core. It is a tragedy that I could've been like those sweet, red apples, and it is a tragedy that I never could've been like them as well.

I am not accustomed to feelings of longing
As it is now not from a person

I stand on the creaking logs in the middle of a swamp's river
Balancing to remain afloat

I watch from a distance
Sitting on my rain cloud
As my acid raindrops on your safe haven homeland

I have hidden my heart under these planks
And the beating is like black and yellow sparks
Screaming in my ear
"Now,"
They shriek,
"Now."

I'm like an artist staring at a canvas
The rainbows swirl in my mind
But there is no shadow
There is no story.?

I watch the band from below
I shower them with photos
And they ask me to be there
Again and again

I watch from the wood
Longing to be in the rainbow rain
I describe the floorboards
Because that is all I know.

I have been a raging fire.
I have been an overflowing cup,
Overflowing with guilt;
I wash it down the sink.
I have been too much for everyone:
Too bold,
Too shy,
Too lustful,
Too innocent.
I poured a bucket of ice on my head
To simmer me down a little bit,
And now that I am freezing,
And I cannot feel the fire no more,
I have met you, the blaze.
And your warmth was burning off my skin,
And it was melting my face off,
And it was too much.
Far too much.
You have given me light and burning warmth,
But I cannot handle the smoke.
I now know how he felt.
I am choking,
So I have left.
I will be too little and too much on my own.
I do not need a spark to jolt me.