Jr.

And when I hold my breath, the flames are still. But even when they're gone, wax spills.
My skin, it burns, while my stomach, it churns.
And through the sobs, my head still throbs.
The bag is getting creases and of me, it's getting pieces.
My heart is all wrong, you took it with that song.
In the books, I haven't hooked.
Instead my voice feels the choice.
With hate, it seems my fate.
I soon find desire in the thought I could retire
into my soul, if it hasn't yet turned into a black hole.
I guess we'll wait and see what I'll soon be...

J.