but everything is a copy
that means that i am unoriginal
just a big, fat nobody, a xerox
i'm a copy of a copy of a copy...
and i can't reverse the cycle
as if my tears have been shed before
like i was broken before i was whole
will you ponder over me?
i sit in my corner and cry
because i can't find the solution
and i'm dumb because i don't see it
black stains on my pillow
and i've lost hope
hope of getting out
hope of fairy tales and love songs
hope that words are immortal
that i'm someone to notice
for you to notice
shield is battered
but i keep fighting the unseen villan
only to belatedly realize why i fight
i can only beat myself up for so long....
before i kill myself