Somewhere inside, somewhere below,
The skin, the soul, the life you know,
Is a piece of you, a piece of myself,
Delusional, lost, in dire need of help.
Too weak, too afraid, too far under,
To reach, to communicate, to wonder.
You are tied down, helpless, useless,
By your own insecurity, your excuses.
Nobody wants you, even I don’t need,
The drama, the lies in which you feed,
To awaken you, give a meaning to life,
Every miserable day, every bad night.
I lent to you, gave you, a part of me,
In an attempt, a failed one, to see,
What you can do, or cannot do with,
The strength, the love, support I give.
You ruined it, just like every other try,
And placed the blame, while you cry,
That you’re not wanted, no reason to,
Keep this lifestyle, or even continue.
It’s empty, it’s quiet, you’re all alone,
We stopped caring, you are unknown,
You lived to see, to weep, to laugh at,
Your own funeral, your own epitaph,
In your own company, your own misery,
Realizing what you’d change, concede,
If you could stop, start all over now,
And be a different person, somehow.