stop telling me to live. you wouldn't tell me to live if you knew what my life was.it's kissing the icicle that cuts you, your only source of water also your source of pain, your tongue sticking to the ice cold tearing it off so you can lick your raw wounds curl up and shiver to create a little heat.
stop telling me to live.
every day praying for the end that isn't life anyway is it? who are you, sitting on your mountaintop, to judge us? what do you know about life, what do you know about pain?
conform, be like me, be like the rest of us you say. but we couldn't even if we wanted to, and what we want most of us is not to be. but you won't allow us that. no, that we cannot be, that is not acceptable, keep the invalids alive feeding them drop by drop slow poison, alive enough to feel the pain but not alive enough to free themselves.
stop telling me to live.
