Rock, Paper, Scissors

I like the rain and the dark clouds and you like the sun to warm your skin

but I don't like the skin I'm in and I'd rather be cold so your hands like suns can hold me, warm me; but when

you touch me it's cold, but I can't tell because I'm colder

it's like rock, paper, scissors; I'm the paper and you're the scissors to

cut me into pieces

you tell me I'm pretty but I'm not like other girls and I don't really know what that means

But it seems you're lying, and I know you're lying, because I'm nothing and they're all masterpieces

I'm just a lonely girl who's not even trying

to be better

And every time I fall you pick me up, but lately the fog in my eyes is clearing, disappearing

And when I fall, I look up and it's you pushing me down

And at that moment I want to run, but I'm too scared to go because I know nothing else except

the sting of your touch and the sting of your words; so I clutch

to your silhouette but you ignore me and smoke your cigarette and I convince myself I love you

And try to forget; I swore I'd never leave you, but you swore you loved me

And love doesn't cut you so slowly that you don't even realize you're dying

Oh, I feel so hollow now, all my blood has drained from those cuts; I must look terrifying

But I've always liked the rain and the cold and now my lips are sighing because I'm cold now,

dead now, and the sun can't warm me up