Still Dead

sometimes ur sad, but you're ok
and at other times,
sadness has a scary edge of desperation to it
and you feel like u might just be drowning
slipping into some deep dark place inside you
and u break into pieces, each watching all the others
one wanting to dive in and swim in the dark,
find the heart of the night
and another, scared, wanting the light
and another, that died or was never born,
and couldnt care one way or another
and while u slide, u panic
and u want to reach out
when i slide there's no one
i'd dare to hold on to
that i wouldnt pull them in
or be burnt by the grip
exchanging,
one well for another
but thats why
when i walk by a well, or bog
i stretch my arms out and hold on tight
and pull whenever
and once ashore
i let go
but sometimes thats not
just what they were after
as a price for ur wanting to make them happy
they want ur soul
443 days
443 nights
443 notches on the side of ur grave
ur stubborn indifference
makes me hate
anyone who dares to give me love instead
ur still, cold, grey, body,
and ur dancing eyes in my dreams
make me want to kill
anyone who dares to live instead
oceans of mustard seeds wouldnt help
attics full of corpses wouldnt help
lifetimes of love and joy, wouldnt help
bcz u'd still be dead
as always i hurt myself to hurt u
i open it up and it all spills out
i dont want nothing of urs, so i let it spill
bitch
come back
ill grind out the one u loved
ill never let her smile again
if u want her at all
come back