Tell me that you love me. I don't care if you mean it, I just really need to hear it.
Oh God, show your face for just a moment. I don't need any explanations, just confirmation that this is all happening for a reason.
These voices in my head, does anyone know how to mute them? I'll settle for just a minute of silence.
These empty bottles don't cure me like they once did.
I forgot everything that you told me never to forget. I hold tightly to pain. I find solace in my sorrows.
I still google words that I fear I may misuse. As if there is ever a way for me to properly use words to transcribe the emotions flowing in and out my veins.
Nobody really knows me, at all. Not even me. Not even God-- assuming that he finally shows his face. I probably wouldn't even see him or recognize him with all of these lies that we've been spoon-fed.
Does truth even exist? Or is this all just a massive misunderstanding?
Don't tell me I'm crazy, we're all crazy for thinking that we can be anything other than crazy.
Definitions for crazy--
Maybe if you knew my whole life, you'd understand the context behind the words that I am using.
But I would never let you in.
The doors are locked, the keys are rusted, and my soul is not interested in meeting your eyes.
You know what? Go ahead, call me crazy. I'll just choose my own definition for my pleasing.