Band Aid

What’s with those days…
The one’s where you feel,
Feel like you’re falling,
Waiting for someone to come catch you.

No one ever catches me.
But there’s always someone
To pick up the pieces,
And put them back together.
They try to help,
but I'd rather stay broken.

Every time I break, it hurts worse then before.
And every time...
I lose a piece of me.
I hate being this weak.
I should be stronger.

Except for the fact my heart is cracked and broken.
It's not something a band aid can fix.
Don't you remember when you thought
a skinned knee was bad?
Or a paper cut?
I'd take a million of those.

But hopefully,

They'll make me bleed to death.

And then no one will have to glue me together.
My tears have run dry,
My blood is pounding.
I promised to live,
and I will keep that promise.

It doesn't mean I want this.