Shatter that glass,
pound those drums.
Transform into something else,
someone else.
Fragile things shatter,
with love, without love.
The shape of me held,
in his eyes,
in his touch.
But is whole really better?
There are no stories
about the girl
who didn’t stand
on the cliff's edge.
Falling’s half the fun.
The ground beneath is penance.
But I cannot feel it through
the drum beat in my chest,
it’s in his eyes,
in His touch.
The world can burn for this,
die for this.
So I can have a moment longer
in those flames.
If this is agony,
then why am I flying?
Love and pain become
one and the same.
It’s the synonym, I can live with.
To fight and love in equal measure.
It’s the contradiction, I can live with.
It's a battlefield
within two people
with hands locked
on the other’s throat.
The power to destroy,
in his eyes,in his touch;
the dark abyss of night
was inevitable.
Heart and soul was given
but he returned it broken.
I was someone else,
something else.
The fall will be hard,
things have shattered
and nothing good
comes from fire.
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