I don’t want a breakthrough
I’m looking for a way to justify
Not making it through
Words are only cheap translations of the pain
And I won’t speak them anyway
I want to sugar-coat the truth
Make it seem like I ever cared to try
I’ve learnt the script
Heard the platitudes
All the while I’m looking for the exit
And all paths I tread
Lead to one moments epiphany
All those years ago
That I’ll never know what it is to be full
And the reckoning in my head
For I said ‘run, for godsake jump.’
But I just sat in the car instead.

‘You’re doing well,’ they say, to which I think

‘If this is doing well, then pass me the fucking gun.’

The guitar riff takes me back

To sitting in the car

Drowning from the emptiness In the bottomless pit of my lungs

Watching raindrops

Making tracks

Splattered shadows

I was supposed to be better

But i’d already rotted away from the inside It was sinking in, i was going home

To become someone who would be fulfilled

But I knew right there, as you walked back to the car with my meds

Nothing could fill me up