#72

I am alone,
I feel like I'm never home.
I want to fly
up, up in the sky.

Sometimes I feel a knife
getting stuck on my chest.
If I pull it out
I see your blood everywhere.

Flick your fingers in my skin with it,
paint me a lover, so I'm not alone.
Paint me home.

My mind constantly wonders
playing around the shores.
Each ship, another thought
that sinks my body in blood.

If love is not real
we might have lost our magic.

If we exist,
why do we care?
We exist,
but who is taking care?

I can't do this alone,
not anymore.
That's why I need to fly,
so give me the knife.