so i just drink, till i’m out of my mind,
remote control, stuck on re-wind.
but you’re not her, and better so.
she was a witch, in soul and shadow.

so the frequencies are atrocious,
i can’t hear my own thoughts or get some rest.
it’s been a while, and you’re ageing fast.
you’re the spitting image of hope in my armor.

so i walk to this point, watching my step,
always thinking twice to feint regret.
but you know, it’s cuffed to my wrist,
i can’t ever be cured unless i cease to exist.

@1 month ago with 12 notes