The choice

Storms twist inside me, as I forget how to breathe without cigarette smoke. Poison my lungs, poison my black soul as I damn myself for everything that went wrong. The music isn't loud enough, the tears pushing but never flow over. I am made of stone and cannot move. 

Storms twist inside me and everything becomes a dull aching, pounding, slamming against my ribs to the echoes of our songs. I wandered aimlessly, forgot where I was heading and then my goal was taken away from me. Ripped apart, over and over, until I can't breathe anymore. Blacken my lungs, I do not need them anymore.

And there's a version of me still lingering in you, and I wonder if you could ever love him like you love her. It would have been nothing to die for you, maybe one day I still might. Life holds no meaning anymore, I haven't got enough booze to drown my pain. I'm drowning in rivers for all the tears I cannot cry. Building up the pressure until I explode.

And I'm just a shadow, a ghost lingering between worlds, lost and confused I find no rest like the spirits of the dead. I'm not here, I'm not here, this isn't happening. Random words search and find their way through, if only I could somehow reach out to you. Again, like once before. If only I dared to believe hard enough, maybe I can go on.

But the darkness rules me and I'm under its command. I stare into the abyss and it's capturing me. I gaze as far as my tired eyes can see but I see nothing. Nothing, nothing's there. My endless spirals lead me here, I'm at your feet loving you unconditionally and you toss me away cause I'm not her. I can never be her and my jealousy is killing me. Over and over until I'm nothing but wounds.

And I try to escape, everything that I can possibly try to escape, but it never works. It slips away like sand between my fingers, like water in my hair, like your words from me: my will to live. But I won't die from you, I don't want you losing me too, if you'd even care. Maybe if I'm dead you'd start caring? Why do I always fall... for the wrong ones?

And I can't breathe even with the cigarette smoke. Chunks of tar, wrestling with the air inside me. I am in control now, of everything I do but not of what I think and feel. And nothing is real, nothing was ever real. Stuck between the choice, live or die, I dread the day I'll eventually decide.