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Standing
I come to you with scars on my wrist,
You tell me you can’t worry about something like this.
You say I need to stop, or we won’t talk anymore.
But if I stop, than I can’t cope with us not being more.
To you, I thought I could confess
How my life twisted into a mess
But I can tell from the look in your eyes,
I’ll have to cover with more lies.
Why can’t you see?
What I want, I need?
Without a touch, I’ll be put in an institution,
So I’m forced into the arms of a simple substitution.
All the things we do,
It feels so wrong ‘cause it isn’t with you.
You have her, and I have him,
But I only wanted him then.
Now you’re gone and I can’t deal,
I’m sorry I can’t suppress what I feel.
I know you don’t really care,
But it really isn’t fair
How there’s not air left in my lungs,
And no words make it past my tounge.
Whenever you come around,
You always end up breaking me down.
I’m crawling on my knees,
I want to yell, to scream.
But I bite my lip and hold it all in,
Drown all my feelings with a little gin.
And, later, if I see you out,
When my head floods with doubt,
You’ll ask me how I am, like I knew you would.
Then I say “You pushed me into hell, but I stood.”
You’ll stare, gaping,
As I walk away, still standing.
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