Across the table
my grandpa asks me why
i don't eat cinnamon toast crunch anymore.
The last time i saw them
i loved it so much
that he tried it, and got hooked
but now i don't touch it.
And i don't know how to tell him
why,
how to tell him
that the thought of all that sugar
paralyzes me.
So i just sit with my corn flakes,
avoid his eyes
and hope he doesn't notice
how desperately i wish i could eat it.

Can't go to sleep again
This is when I miss c*caine
Or anything else
In my brain
In my veins
To numb the pain
Before I go insane

But I've come this far
Hanging by a thread
Looking for a missing star
One amongst the dead

I wish I could show you
The real person inside me
The things I truly can do
And who I can be

I've always been lurking
As well as searching
Through the darkness
Of my soul's promise

"We'll be united once more"
Oh how death I would adore
To melt down to my core
Or wash up cold ashore

See the expressions of apathy
And see mal-sympathy
I've broken and I've torn
Around me ever since I've born

I miss't to feel numb
I used to be so fun
Nowadays I've been shunned
From all that I want

So this' what I've become
Someone with seams undone
So I'd understand
If you'd reprimand
All that I am
And ever will be
For I'm only sand
Blowing away at sea

Whats wrong with me?
Why do I feel like this...
Dropping to my knees....
and tears dropping down into an abyss...

Why can´t I just be normal?
and ¨buckle down¨ like other people.
I dont want to feel awful..
and I am just a *******.

I can´t get anything done
and I dont understand why.
This weight on me feels like a ton
and theres nobody nearby.

I hate myself because...
I dont understand myself...
why I do what i do..
why i feel the way i feel..
why i think my thoughts...
... the sharp edges control itself...

Sitting in the dark just gives me visions of you
No matter either way the wall is built
No matter the covering
No matter the adversity
Take me into your simple arms
Your sinful arms
Return me
Release me

When the clicks go click and the rifle has a kick;
Behind your head. Those bullets rip
a part of your life, from the outside- in. your heart.
It trusts a little harder.
;My razor has the power on the counter, And im stuck in the shower.
Trying to climb this curtain tower.. spinning with the room.
Still.. I lay, without power.
My arms, weary.
My legs are weak
and my nose. Clogged purely with powder. But it's not flower;
My drink is sour, I try to cover it with caffeine, Gum, and hours;
I want it to work,
But without options or chowder. The choice is;  live or die. I haven’t power,
No money, Just a coward. But I see it.
nor money; or regret,
the pill will make it better. But with drug tests, and stomach upsets I can’t.. I can’t waste it. A chance to be made. Or forfeit. But I won’t quit..  
It’ll hurt a bit. At least for a time,
But **** it,
I’m crushing a little white downer

If I never feel happy again.
If I get a case of the “**** its”
and follow that red glow all the way to my grave
(because it feels warm once in a while).
If I walk into a venue in my hometown
and smell the familiar scent of stale beer and regret.
If my mom passes away
suddenly or succumbing to the passage of time.

That I’ll never heal from how I was treated
and continue to treat myself the same over and over.
That I have to rely on jokes about my grandmother
to keep her memory alive
when she is not.

If I let myself down
again.