Somedays,

I just want to burn the world.
I put my heart and soul on to a silver platter and serve it with a bandaid hoping whoever decides to eat it will fix it first.
I like to take chances. I hope sometimes that when I jump off buildings that I'll find my wings on the way down.
I havent found my wings yet.
I seem to have lost them
I ripped them from my spine
I didnt think I was good enough to be your angel.
But I realize
"when I climb
inside your eyes
I still pretend that I can fly."
But now your eyes are blackend
and blind
And you dont see my perfect design
I'm stuck here, scraping already skinned knees
I'm trying to show you the diety I can be.