In search of something,
Brave enough to live,
Commanded myself into things, when I thought, I'll never do, but did.
Walking up on never ending steep stairs,
Hoping that you would be here,
but you never gave me the chance to let me in.
I'm touching me there, where your hands were,
Take the scissors and cut that part off,
Don't care no more, I don't want to feel you again.
Conquer your leftover touch on my body,
Mark the empty places for others, that do the same hurting things like you and calling it fine-line-art.
I'm touching me there, where your hands were,
Don't you notice?
I'm still not over this.
End the vicious circle and look for the beginning of the end,
Searching for the time and a reason to understand,
why I let you in my head.
Am I only visible when I try to hide?
Maybe it was too easy to float in my shallow waters of emotion,
you cast your net and ripped it all out of me.
I was wrong thinking that it supposed to hurt, because then it would be real.
I'm touching me there, where your hands were.
