"carve your name into my arm instead of stressed, i lie here
charmed"
the solidarity inside my shallowness
weeping for my sanity inside your chest
if there were any words to say or anything to do i’d do them
all
I’d do anything for you

i only sit to plan my attack
to take you and lead you by the hand
to show you that i need you and prove this won’t degrade
sorrow brings me nothing, and loneliness makes me crawl
away


so the minor chords linger in to a numb intention
i’m not out to break you, i’m out to do everything to make
you happy
though happiness is a bitter fault
you’re left inside my heart in a shape of something dull
still cutting away the happiness, i know i don’t deserve
but leaving just enough for you to care

The sonnets ask, where do those of watered eyes weep?
What do the hollow hearts seek?
and where do the meager minds find their love?
And the bloody heartstrings reply, "in awe of what they lost"

The hollow hearts once had strength in their distinction, it
was all cut out by a lover left inside.
The meager crawled through cave of knives and razors, they
came out with the mediocrity of a bloody cry.
The watered eyes were left with a handful of defeat leaking
from their finger’s faults and mingling with the blood

Those of the fading audience were left, to bid the
heartstrings and the acts, their applaude with splashing
blood
seeping on to the chairs of pleasure.
inside their hand lie a thank you, for keeping them alive