The Killing Of The Sun

Tell me why smiles are always the first to be forgotten? Tell me why our memories are filled with barrels of never ending tears? Tell me why we’re so scared to live but so content with dying? Tell me why the different must all be so tormented and steadily crying? There are just a few things people like us don’t understand. We don’t get how people can be so happy. How it feels to be truly glad. We’re mad. We’re fucking doomed and broken. Actually I think we are the sane. We know the world. We feel it’s pain. We hold the hands of the mentally deranged. Demons are our angels. Satan is our keeper. We know too much and feel too much. This life is filled with strangers and we feel every single person that comes in range of us. Even what’s inside ourselves is quite strange to us. We might be damaged but we’re beautiful. We’re dangerous.