Out of sync
the strangers are in control
telling me to sit back and enjoy the ride

It's like I'm myself from 6 years ago
not caring about anything
except the desire not to have flowers left
at my schoolbench, by people I've never talked to

Hypocrites
caring after it's too late
culprits,
demon-people

I remember standing
in a strange town
with stranger people
watching the cherry blossoms
with black rain as my best friend

the wind cutting through my clothes
cutting into my skin
cutting into my bones
the same bones I carved loneliness into
when I decided to be a city-life hermit

hiding underneath that cherry tree,
the one she buried her angels beneath

Sometimes, life feels like
being back to the days
when I was a six year old girl, and I used to drown myself
in the bowl where my darkness and six goldfish used to live
just to see if I could still breathe

Yeah, just to see if could still breathe,
with my eyes still closed.