So you can tell me your life story. Build up lies and exaggerate the truth. You can try to explain to me how your heart strings are twisted, ripped, or weak. Or how the dark fog in your mind keeps getting thicker and you can barely see the sun anymore. Tell me about how you are like water. You started up high, loved and wanted, weightless. But nobody can hold you, for, you are not yet your solid self. Your soul wilts a little and you no longer know whether you were your own tears or someone else's, finally a liquid, still full of hope. Tragedies come raining down on you but they only freeze you a bit. Your molecules slow down as you build some solid ground, and you're solid too. But soon enough you learn to love and the heat within your passion melts you from the inside out, letting your emotions run down the window pane. You tell me that you were crazed until you realized how fast you were falling and how you were all alone. But, by the time you hit the ground, your heart is solid as stone. Your temple touched the floor sending pulses through your bones and shattering everything that you were. You can tell me how broken you are, try to buy sympathy from me. You can scream out for help, but open arms aren't guaranteed. No, you find yourself trapped within locked doors and an endless corridor. So, yes, you can come to me and plead for me to fix you, by I'm nothing but a framed portrait upon the wall of the same corridor. I can't save you, nobody can. You need to save yourself, or hang yourself with a nail and join the rest of us hopeless souls.