A heart that's full up like a landfill. A job that slowly kills you. Bruises that won't heal. You look so tired and unhappy. I'll take a quiet life. A handshake of carbon monoxide. No alarms and no surprises. Silent silence.
"Some people are so broken,
They get mad at you for being whole."
"Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars."
So, I want you to know it’s a little fucked up
that I’m stuck here waiting
"If you don’t like where you are, move on. You are not a tree."