Leafy hearts.
— I don't carry my heart on my sleeve, it's crushed between the tips of my fingers.

I don’t understand. You’re all fine hypocrites.

After time passes, dust settles on the memories As time passes, poison builds up in my body These days, I want to be more free than before I am exactly half dead these days I couldn’t see it with my eyes but I believed it I definitely felt that it pulled me forward I remember that start and I empty out all the things that made me rot I need to hold onto the things I was losing