How much did my heart end up bidding for?

That day when you auctioned the final valve out;

How many times did I have to beg you to stop?

Before you even realized what I was begging about.

And, when the snow fell in around your barricaded world ;

and no one else cared to come dig for your face…

that final shot – the one that stole your last sane thought –

must’ve come to you just as I set fire to my own face.

I still find your child-like, crumpled pieces of note;

an ocean of lies with each word that you wrote;

I still scream teardrop stains that streak down both cheeks;

Alone and afraid to swim through the bullshit you speak.

The doctors say the fragments of your blade is almost gone;

my back will heal up and they’ll sew my wings back on…

so that I can take flight just one very last time –

in order to die with a grip on what’s mine.