…goodbye!
Oh I loved her so dear
And her love I did not fear
I thought it would always last
But now it’s in the past…
I have wasted my limbs and my throat, the sweat of my brow, and the esteem of
my peers. I have written all these words only to disappoint myself
No matter how carefully crafted it may be, my lifeline could be nothing but
these frequencies that fight off my fears. I’ve tried to pull meaning from
anyone’s suffering, instead I’m coming to terms with feeling so sad, small,
and scared
By now, it’s been done to death. Overblown and picked apart. What’s left I only
have to guess
No more feelings, no more songs. The best has come and gone
It still hurts, but I cannot stop serenading the void. It’s the only thing I
can do to feel like I’ve left a mark. It’s living life under a shadow—the
visceral but fleeting ghosts of youth and its imminent decline
I still long for art not born of suffering. How long will I sing the music of
my wounds?
There’s no more room to grow. Don’t weep for what I have become.
I swear I’m better off. I swear!