i know i told you it got better but i just got used to it
because how do i tell you that everyday feels the same
and getting out of bed is a chore and i can’t recognize my self in the mirror anymore
as i cry i want to do it home on my bathroom floor
it docent make sense anymore even in a room filled with people
just sew me with thred and needle
i still feel alone because i can’t be sewn
yet i don’t understand how anyone could love a black hole
dose not feeling anything count as feelings at all
sitting in the dark as my monsters hide in corners
this is the most at home i’ve ever felt in a long time
they listen with me to my sad songs that i play on repeat
i know
i know
i know
i told you it got better
but i just got used to it