Hold my bag
I take care of my things by myself
There's no need to lend me a hand
You could carry my casket once I'm dead
That's what you do
You lead people into their death.

My grave is getting dug
Honestly speaking, I'm in no hurry
To meet my ancestors and God
To see them enraged
How and why did I end up in heaven
We all always thought it'd be hell.

I'm not your villain, but I'm your problem
With the ability to give birth to solutions
I blow air out of my lungs to fix the air pollution
Look, hold my bag
What I'm trying to do is crucial
You don't really have a say
You're not Google.

My hands tremble because of the adrenaline
Three coffees, no sleep, and no lunch
Something is about to happen if I listen to my hunch
But it's always right, like a headache before rain
My fist is clenched - ready to throw a punch
I'm on the start line with my 3-point start
To the point I could get knocked out and not feel hurt.

That's me
I don't leave things to coincidences
If someone's the blacksmith of my own downfall,
It's me, and me only
I would rather pour acid on my face
Than to trade gold for silver
Let the vultures nibble on my liver
Like I'm your Prometheus
Because I introduced you to the fire.

I would rather soak and drown in my own poison
I would rather destroy my foundations
Because I can rebuild new ones anytime I want
I would rather destroy everything that I ever built
Than to leave it to you
I would rather commit suicide
Than to leave you the pleasure of killing
I would rather do it all by myself
It's more fulfilling.

© Juliet Jeyn