Beg me for the answer to this question. “How does one bleed compassion and conviction over everything else?” Abandon human nature and fine lines. From time to time I think it’s fine to walk a thin line. But these days the lines are too fine, though this place is mine. It’s real late at night or real early morning. You are a shell. Fragile and stitched with thread you wait for hell. Take from me everything I once held dear. Dear, my dear, don’t call me less human. I keep playing those same occurrences over and over and over inside my head, fragile and stitched with thread I wait patiently for my home to feel like one. Yeah, you and I are similar though I don’t carry a gun. I am all that is holding me here. Dear, my dear I’m hanging on every word. Dear, my dear it’s my day. Now I beg you, retire your heart to me. I’ve lost mine or at least I’ve lost all of it’s beats. And I beg you, retire your lungs to me. Mine are full of holes and the dust in the wind. So I beg you, retire your eyes to me. I keep mine closed, but I need to see what you see. I beg you, retire your heart to me. I’ll hear you out in fear that I’ll cave in. Now I beg you, retire your heart to me. I’ve lost mine or at least I’ve lost all of it’s beats.
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