These are the thoughts that I try to resist.
I don’t think there’s a place that I can exist.
Not in connection, or community.
I turn to rust everything I see.
can this not seem like the end?
A lifetime filled with the same mistakes
I make over and over again.
Just like this song I've heard before,
Just like this life I've lived before.
I`m too full of memories,
and words spoken like eulogies:
”Living like this is killing me,” well
living like this is killing me, so
Burn me alive.
I harm myself too much for others to bear.
When I look to the future, nothing's there.
I've gained an inch for all the miles that I've fought.
I raise a prayer to the suicidal God.
Burn me alive, it will provide
the only light I have to use as a guide.
And even martyr fantasies
are manifestations of my vanity.
Burn me alive, I can't do this again.
All beginnings echo their predetermined end.
And bury me where the roots cannot reach,
so I'll be dead the way that I was alive.