Walking until the pain in my soles,
Might eclipse this pain in my soul.
I do not feel the pain in hot coals,
As I do just being alone as I get old.
I drag myself up endless stairways,
Trying to elude a burden of shame.
Haven’t been to sleep in many days,
Still too busy repressing the blame.
I’m so tired of mourning the living,
When not penning my own eulogy.
My whole life is nothing but giving,
But you don’t need anything from me.
I only seem to light these candles,
To watch them eventually burn out,
Stability is more than I can handle,
When I’m saturated with this doubt.
Love letters are my exhibit to fail,
Knowing damned well I always do.
An envelope of sorrow in the mail,
With a pen I divulge the entire truth:

“I’m too broken to be pieced together,
And I feel guilty being your anchor,
Truth is you can do so much better,
I am nothing and you deserve more.”

Smile and laugh through my sincerity,
Like I haven’t been crushed so far,
I bleed for you, you just stare at me,
With a distant gaze as I break apart.
I know exactly what you’re feeling,
Your restlessness shows it quite well,
The part of me you find appealing,
Can also be found in anybody else.
I never wanted to waste your time,
Even if it’s the only thing I do right,
Apparently I am a fuckup by design,
It’s the only consistency in my life.
One day your candles will melt down,
And your alternatives keep on fading,
The only redeeming quality I resound,
Is I am stupid enough to still be waiting.