Because I know that it was written for, about, and over me
Its really hard to live with the fucked up things you do
Especially when you have a mind made of art
So your conscience eats at you
and the guilt leaks out
And gets mixed up in all the not-so-fucked-up things you try to do
Its really easy to go against your principles
especially when they're not your principles
But rules implied in other convictions that you hold
that your conscience expects you to follow because of some stupid loophole
In your mind made of art...
From your thoughts made up of tragedies
That have slithered up from your catastrophic patchwork of a heart
I wish I could tell her who did this to me
But that would be like offering a single suture to someone that you're literally ripping apart
I'm not perfect.
In fact I'm actually quite average
Except for this mind made of art.
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