Contemporary Suicide

Contemporary suicide Holding the hands that help us lie I am in ruins past my grave Haunting the world that makes me stay The moon lights up my hunting ground I sit here and thirst, then look around Such unexistence through my eyes Such lack of life, such empty prize My fornicated reeds of loss I’d open my heart, but I’ve been caught Thorns deep inside this little hole I’d open my mouth, but I’d bleed your soul Can’t calculate the day I’ll leave I know I have lungs, not why I breathe We are domestically inclined We can not escape, lest we not survive Contemporary suicide Holding the hands that help us die We are the ruins past our graves Don’t look around unless you want to stay