Wrecked soul's night out
Damn! Why does everything taste this sour?
May be all is made of rot. Must be.
Funny how bitter becomes the new honey when in hell.
Why don't I feel anything?

The cuts should hurt, right? But then it would mean I'm alive.
Somebody tell me I am. Even if it's a lie.
Cause I'm not sure anymore. What's the proof?
My mere 'existence'? But I'm here cause I'm not dead.
At least not on the outside.

Feels like I only felt warm when I was born.
Then boom! Down to frozen hell. Burning cold.
How can emotions hurt both because they exist and they do not?
Which one should have been the case?
Trillion pieces of my heart keep eating me with bitterness
while my nonstop longing for affection and care grinds my soul.
Am I alive for wanting love or am I dead for lacking a whole,
beating heart?

Does anyone even have an answer?
Don't you dare say I'm just drunk?
I am because sour is all I could feel.
Now tell me if I'm alive and prove it.
Hit me with all you've got and see if there's anything alive left to break.
Or kill me and let's see if I could make it back up like a snake.

Just do something.
Just make me feel alive.
Am I alive or I'm I existing.

~BeNelly~