i build walls around myself,
then I turn them into thorns,
and then when I look away,
all my thorns are almost gone.
i realize I miss them most,
when I cannot cry for help,
when my mind is washed away,
and my eyelids turn to gray.
i forget I'm not alone,
but then I'm already done
and then when I look away,
all my thorns are almost gone.
my blood rushes to my head,
but my breath stops in its place,
and my fingertips are tingling,
all my thorns will have to pay.
i have felt like this for long,
my mind has always been lost,
and then when I look away,
all my thorns are almost gone.
trickling down both of my lungs,
silver, sharp and red as blood,
and then when I look away,
all my thorns are almost gone
