i guess it's a paradox a question that can't be answered do i not see my reflection because the mirror's broken or did i break it because i couldn't see myself anymore?
are my cut-up fists a karmic response? i think i wished this bad luck upon myself it's all coming right back to me now there's no one to blame but myself
so it's me who's at fault for every misfortune i keep on my shoulder like a badge of honor, one for every day this week as if it was something to be proud of, as if i'd even overcome any trial or tribulation i'd fucking put myself through
and if you look closely you will watch me shatter, oh you've seen the spiderweb cracks running through me these last few years
like expectations yours and mine shards will fall beneath your feet a puzzle you might recognize if you could put back the pieces
even worse than the self inflicted wounds i'm as sorry as i can be because the gashes in your skin i'd try to nurse are remnants of me
you've been on the receiving end of the debris between you and me and love i'm afraid when it happens the sharp edges will hit a vein
but when i hit the ground there will be a beautiful sound and all that's left is to pick up the pieces