I love cutesy stuff but I also love the morbid
For awhile I had my feelings turned off,
All that there was terribly cold and dark.
I had light towards others but destruction was what I saw for myself.
Trying to become the best person I can.
Memories don’t stick much,
It seems the worst do more than the better.
My hands don’t work as good as they did, lines go curvy from the shake.
My words they sound and taste stale on my tounge, nothing is as easy as it was when I was young.
I look at my face, my face isn’t what it used to be. I look myself in the eye, I can’t for long.