i don't want to be in the light because it only burns; it only illuminates the heaviness that lives beneath my eyes (from a lack of sleep but how do they expect me to sleep with all this fucking light shining on me).
it's so cold and empty and barren inside, under my paperskin, and the brightness beams beneath and fills me... but i can't keep what isn't mine and it hurts more to have something leak through me than never having it to begin with so, please, keep it away from me.
i know what it's like to live in trenches and i know we're all just breathing until the day we don't and we want to know... we have to know why... and i've come to realize that whatever it is (your why) will only ever be yours (and i am not yours even if you were mine) and you can't forcibly change or debate your way into changing someone's why and if you have the audacity to try... well, it doesn't matter much what i'd say to you (does it).
keep your little light (i blew mine out to hide from you).
