You should have chosen me.
I stood in the wreckage of a house where you had sacrificed me to keep the fires fed, only to be thrown to the frost when he was done with you.
Then it was my hands, the very hands you stepped on to please him, that had to scoop up your shattered pieces, measuring out your fading days in insulin and silence, watching you swallow your own decay while I bled out in secret, forced to play the savior to a mother who never once chose me.
And forced to fail.
[media=https://youtu.be/6yXIUyE9bck]
Then it was my hands, the very hands you stepped on to please him, that had to scoop up your shattered pieces, measuring out your fading days in insulin and silence, watching you swallow your own decay while I bled out in secret, forced to play the savior to a mother who never once chose me.
And forced to fail.
[media=https://youtu.be/6yXIUyE9bck]
