The first night after your released,
no one expects you to get much sleep.
Your the waking walking dead.
In my case, I'm not much better.
Walk through the kitchen and grab a marker.
Trace the path the blood will flow.
The lines I wear around my wrists are there to prove that I exist.
Tomorrow it will be easier to forgive myself, and remember her
without a guilty head, these nightmare lines, an empty heart.
We take for granted all the things that make us who we are.
Get up. Get dressed. Go to work. They all know who you are.
They can't believe you'd show up here, but that's just who they are.
Set up shop at your machine, calibrate, remember
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