I want to pick up the broken fragments of myself
I want to hold my flaws, insecurities, and loneliness in my hands
By picking up the jagged edges
Pricking my swimming fingers in the process

I want to watch the deserving wounds wallow their way on the outside
As if they were perceived from within myself
Oh, how morbid and solemn I would be presented as

For I am someone who wants to be fixed by their own hands
Not needing the guidance of the irrelevant strangers that lie in my presence
Claiming that they withhold a strong emotion for me, which harbors opaque clarity

I will redeem myself
But I will not seek any form of reprisal
To the people who have caused my salt covered wounds

Therefore my enemies who convey themselves as allies
Are blessed that I have chosen the road of bliss
And not the eerie, retched form of retribution

Because if I ever change my mind
And seek the biased path I myself deem fit through my glassy eyes
You will all feel remorse

And I will feel nothing
As I close the door on each and every one you
Locking the way
For any of you to ever return