I'll bite through my cheek To prove I'm still here You can't replace the feeling of Adapting to feel at all Nihilistic, reserved, defensive and not unheard So praise yourself for Being alive, the masochist dance goes on Soft breath, black lungs, empty sighs, tired cries I can't recall A time when we cherished our condition We are insecurities packed in perfectly frail bodies
Isn't that the complexity that we romanticized? With a self deprived notion that things won't get better (it's not perfect thou, I want to simply be buried in ideologies I can't take the pressure of life out of theory Awake, embrace, remission so endure, survive, romanticize) ((It gets better))