He’s leaving today, and I guess he’s the only one who gets to be a miserable little fuck about it.
His heart tied around his finger like he’s running to hope, it’s a fucking joke.
But he can’t hold is head up at five in the morning, and he hasn’t been able to type a real text for months.
It’s a fucking joke, the lies we tell ourselves when we’re half dead and headed for broke. Pretending other people aren’t holding the rope.
‘It’s a hard road and I’m tired and I need my family by my side!’ Like I wasn’t his family once.
Bloodless brothers and mothers and sisters, signing tombstones before the skin ever gets cold, it’s a fucking joke.
He’s leaving today and I guess he’s the only one who matters
different state, a different love.
The kind you can control as you shove it down someone’s throat and pretend you don’t know.
I’m sorry I can’t live up to your standards, Boo!
I got my demons in my pocket and they’re whispering lies.
They’re on my side, I do this for me, it’s not about you,
It’s none of your business.
Nope! And it’s a fucking joke.
Uncommon Graces 