"Don't set yourself on fire to make others warm."
Yet I carry matches in my right pocket at all times.
Skin and bone burn from my only way out.
The bones of the ones i burned.
But trust, that I've got 3rd degree lovers burn on my heart.
My soul a spiral on one part freak and Ninety nine part soul.
But i'm more than one hundred parts.
More tragedy in my words than I mean to sound while talking myself off the edge.
Because I'm only used to keep them warm.
Them breathing warm delicate air, life.
But what happens when the matches turn hostile.
More so than blood stained sheets after first time sex.
More so after getting freaky with death.
Because we dance in our own shadows.
But are we the shadows?
The ones in control or ones betting who will die first.
Just until we set ourselves on fire...to keep the others warm.