"It gets better," so they say,
so I try to make it through the day.
The sun in the sky keeps the shadows at bay,
at night, the doubts in my mind replay.
Every night I lie awake,
my sanity at stake.
Thoughts of you my mind does break,
you've caused my very soul to ache.
When I look in the mirror, all I see,
are the scattered pieces you left of me.
With bleeding hands I collect the debris,
my hollow eyes hold my pleas.
"It gets better," that's what I pray,
while inside my soul decays.
My pain, it seems, is on display,
if only I could fade away.