It seems a lot doesn't it? You realize that you're nothing but an extravagant collection of problems, and it's not a breakup, an argument, nor your family..who made you realize that. You just know, while looking blankly at the dish you broke and it scarred your hand. There's a pile of dishes that are waiting to be washed, and a song that paints the kitchen blue, blasting behind you. You throw it in the trash, and hear it, shattering to smaller pieces, but it hits you. It's sad, how much you see yourself, in a broken, dirty dish. Your hand bleeds, what does that mean? Is this the dish's last words? Was its last wish to mark my hand with a permanent scar in hope that it'll never be forgotton? It'll never be healed? You realize, you do the same. You, in your core, are the dish, your blood turns blue, because you realize, that you wound those whom you love, by staying. You wound them by being here, knowing damn well that you'll leave soon. You bleed, on the floor, on the rest of the dishes, and on your phone.. While you're trying to change the song..to something more blue-ish. And this is your mark. you're wounded and you don't want to heal. You scratch your wounds, whenever they heal, and you bleed endlessly on everyone you love, on everything you touch, you drown them with your blue blood, you force them to sink..because you don't now how else to be seen. You don't know how to love, without sinking, or forcing others to sink.

E M P T Y ♪

It seems a lot doesn't it? You realize that you're nothing but an extravagant collection of problems, and it's not a breakup, an argument, nor your family..who made you realize that. You just know, while looking blankly at the dish you broke and it scarred your hand. There's a pile of dishes that are waiting to be washed, and a song that paints the kitchen blue, blasting behind you. You throw it in the trash, and hear it, shattering to smaller pieces, but it hits you. It's sad, how much you see yourself, in a broken, dirty dish. Your hand bleeds, what does that mean? Is this the dish's last words? Was its last wish to mark my hand with a permanent scar in hope that it'll never be forgotton? It'll never be healed? You realize, you do the same. You, in your core, are the dish, your blood turns blue, because you realize, that you wound those whom you love, by staying. You wound them by being here, knowing damn well that you'll leave soon. You bleed, on the floor, on the rest of the dishes, and on your phone.. While you're trying to change the song..to something more blue-ish. And this is your mark. you're wounded and you don't want to heal. You scratch your wounds, whenever they heal, and you bleed endlessly on everyone you love, on everything you touch, you drown them with your blue blood, you force them to sink..because you don't now how else to be seen. You don't know how to love, without sinking, or forcing others to sink.

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1.3K viewsDec 15, 2021 at 20:22