Mad World

The constant tugging of my insides is too much to bear.

All of the tears I've cried it seems as if there's none left to spare.

My mind is preoccupied, keeping busy with routine.

My soul's letting me know you're addictive..stupid, stupid feine.

I want you to give me back the other half of my heart.

Take away all of our memories and mend what's been torn apart.

You made me vulnerable and stole the light from me.

Now I want it back because without it, I cannot see.

Instead, I wish you would've stole my memory so I can get on with what I now know as pain.

I can't even remember who I am anymore. I'm literally going insane.

But then I wonder if maybe you feel just the same.

Do you write about me too and give me all the blame?

I'd cut out my own tongue if it were my own fault

and burn these memories and let my pain hault.

Dying cannot be worse than the poison running through my veins.

At least then, I wouldn't know pain, I wouldn't push and pull the blame, or feel like I'm insane.

I'd be a mere memory carved into your brain.