I never thought that forever would be this short. You said that this would only come, as a last resort. We both know that we’re very far from the end. When you finally die it won’t be my condolences that I will send. And in that envelope, covered in red and with no return addressee, will be the reason why I shot myself when you left me in such a mess.
Fake carpets, fireplaces, paintings and fake pride. You’ve built your life with lies upon lies. But now the walls are caving in, and you’re trapped inside. Now we can all see that you’ve been lying this whole time.
I know that you’re trying to get caught, that much I can tell. But why are you making it so obvious, what are you trying to sell?
I can hear it in your whisper; I can taste it on your lips. But now I know the truth; not it’s not mine, but, your heart that rips.