Count down 'til I bleed out
Eden isn’t real, it’ll never have appeal
The window in my room
Beckons me to jump, I back up, and I give it what I’ve got

Now I want to be living painfully
When I hurt the worst I create the most

Take my happiness and I will write an anthem
Take my pettiness and I will lose direction

Red on my arms and my torso
Sitting up, I look around
Why is air still in my lungs?

This poem will never be
Everything I want, full of rampant mental block
I guess I’ll take it still
If I have to own the dark, break the bulb on idealistic hearts

Now I want to be living painfully
When I hurt the worst I create the most

Take my happiness and I will write an anthem
Take my pettiness and I will lose direction