I staged your death and then covered up my steps when I was dreaming. No evidence, left no fingerprints, and no one heard you screaming. I wake up and try to shake out the feeling that's stuck inside. Sometimes it seems the world had it in for me, it's so defeating. Goddammit, what did I do wrong? Did I deserve it? Was there some sick and twisted underlying purpose? Something tells me that I won't ever really understand it. I watch you die when I close my eyes, but I still hear your whisper. Clean out the stains, the dull pain and blood that's underneath the blister. It doesn't stop. Face down, float up to the top. Dead skin of phantom limb memories, I feel them like a splinter. Goddammit, what did I do wrong? Did I deserve it? Was there some sick and twisted underlying purpose? I'm drained out and calloused. Drop the dead weight, and keep my balance. Take beauty, leave it rendered lifeless and perverted. I kick myself when I'm overwhelmed and when I feel surrounded. I take a breath, cuz there's nothing left that I can do about it. I just need to relax a little.