Replaced.
Displaced.
Where do I go now with your filth on my face?
What happened?
What did I do?
What’s wrong with me?
What’s wrong with you?
Is it because I’m not new?
Am I not shiny enough for you?
Too old, too damaged, too bruised?
Let’s be clear,
it’s all from you.
The cracks, the dirt, the grime, the motherfuckin’ gashes you left behind.
All these scratches and scars are records of your crimes.
So keep on thinking you’re divine.
Keep on living your life unaware,
that what you shine,
is not light or love,
not good nor kind,
but toxicity set with the mind to destroy and conquer.
All you are is cancer.
And I see it now;
you’ll only be happy,
I’ll only be free,
once you’ve wrecked every fucking part of me.
