trophy of everything that withers 


 I wake up with the same pain every night

Digging a hatchet into my left side
Clearing my chest of something to burn
Ash for a decorative urn you keep in your mantelpiece;
Like a trophy for everything
That withers eventually

Call me a coward, but I’m too scared to leave
‘Cause I want you to be the last thing I see
Call me a coward, but I’m too scared to leave
Watched you pouring lighter fluid out onto the leaves

And I would’ve loved you with the dying fire
Let you smother me down to the embers
Frostbite turning my limbs as black as cinder of funeral pyre

And I would have stayed if you asked me to
Stood outside till my lips turn blue
I wouldn’t have blamed you
For leaving me there on the porch while you drank gasoline
‘Cause it’s what you needed so bad

And it’s true
It’s nothing that we could do– Julian baker {funeral pyre}

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