Stitched Up

You're quite righteous for someone so weak.
What if I opened up your chest and had a peak?
Feasted on your heart and lungs as a treat.
Then would you hold onto your words as if they were true?

Petty minus plus minus.
At least you're happy I suppose.
Poor self-absorbed millipede, believing your words hold validity.
If you feel pretty big in that brain of yours, you should leave some room for the rest of us.

Keep me close; keep me silent.
Strip my clothes; shut my eyelids.
I desperately grasp the warmth that trickles down my cheek. 
No words are spoken...
A chilling emptiness lay beside us.
Fill it with a habit, fix it with a problem; pass it on.
Drop it on already weak shoulders and blame them when the pieces fall to the floor.
Blame everyone but yourself.
You who chooses to be no different.
You who chooses to waste away in a glass casket.
You who chooses to wear a black veil so you can only ever bask in darkness.
This is you. 

I can promise nobody will give up their time.
They don't even have time for themselves...
I need you to be empathetic; I know I will be.
I just can't keep giving up my body, in the hopes I can one day hold yours.
I will also die lonely while pieces fall to the floor.