It’s hard to be the one that falls apart
Face flushing as hot, liquid shame pools like
Burnt honey in the pit of your stomach
Hands and knees scraping red and gray
as you scramble to pick up the pieces before the others realise how little is left. And the crowds, well, they’re somehow the worst part in all of this;
Turning their faces away, forever polite, but for once just once you’d like one of them to look you in the eye as they whisper your name with sour pity;
And you wonder if it makes you the bad guy when you wish you weren’t the only one whose heart was broken
Broken, Alone // I. Song










