[x]this will do for now.

the stones come from heaven
to the ones in purgatory
the ones waiting for life to break
waiting to move on
looking up
we make easy targets

how can i find redemption
when i can't forgive myself?
how can i be saved
when all i want to do is not care?
living the irony
being murdered by compassion

never feeling anything for myself
this vicarious life
where i have as much faith
as i have wasted potential
wishing sometimes
that i could bend this halo into horns

and i'm nothing
irreversible but never green
never empty
i would kill myself if my life was
ever such a straight line
if i ever caught myself
living for only me
so tell me
did you have a story to tell?

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