I don't think
people understand how hard it gets.
I'm lifting a weight half my body mass
and it keeps me from touching the paint.
I want it to stop,
I know
I say I love it
but if I had the choice to push it away
I would.
But every time I see myself
there,
how I'm supposed to be,
I want the old me.
When I look at myself
from the back of my mind
I'm drowning in the water
I was supposed to drown myself
in today,
I can't breathe.
And it's eating at me,
the way I wouldn't take in anything else
and I'm swallowing the view of me,
my throat is now pouring
it's blood out of me.
I want to let go,
I want to tell you
I've left the meadow of broken souls
but if I cry as I reveal myself
you'll know it's a lie
and there's no hiding,
I'm dying inside.
