Just Whatev

It gets cold, sittin in this dark place
So bleak that his heart, it starts to race
No one around, not even his conscious
Abandoned again, it seems that he lost his
Way to get through shit, no matter what it was
Him alone, it really doesn't matter cuz
No one truly was there beside
For all those times, they refused to reside
For even a day, just exist in his life
To give some meaning for that dull knife.

He begins to think back, to all those past times
Those piercing lies, come back to cut ties
Completely fuck him over, it seems too real
The incadescent glow becomes surreal
Is that really something there, off in the distance?
Or just another clone, to shake his stance
To get him to think a different way
Before he can say, its too late, to change
And then he's here again, caught in this passing room
It seems it's his home, forever doomed.

People come and go, leaving him here
This time no different, a familiar fear
Unsure of what's next, what he should do
Move on from this point, or look back on the few
Good times he spent, with whoever was last
Whoever was left, from the abysmal class
Those people were liars, they have all been the same
Not a single different one, to calm his fuckin lame
Attitude that never ever seems to fuckin rest
It peaks and peaks with those high up crests
Those mountains of fear and melancholy lows
Not a single one left, to help with his woes.

This dull knife is the only friend he's had
Through thick and thin, through the good times and bad
Yet ironically enough, the knife is quite different
As he stays the same, the knife's blade grows spent
It's seen better days, back when it was still sharp
Back when he had hope, before they did depart
And now it's left here with him
To attempt to help him fulfill this sin
Continue to cut at all the shackles he has
Holding him back, they are preventing his pass
Into a better place, much more different than here
With people who stay, without people who fear.

This single knife, it's all he's ever had
To help him cope, through the pain he'd glad
-Ly move on from this point in his life
The knife itself, can't end the strife
But he doesn't care, he reaches and grasps
Holding it close, pressing against his abs
Like a samauri, he attempts to rip
Away at his flesh, he losses his grip
Not able to finish what he desires to start
Not able to stop...the beating of his heart..