you don't even notice me chugging beers down like i'm an alcoholic
smoking like a chimney
me, the controlled one

you're not even surprised when my words get bitter
my honesty, so mean
me, the nice one

i'm trying to get to you, make you see how messed up you left me
but i'm translucent to you
your eyes see right through me

i wonder if you're so alone that you need to share your loneliness with me,
and so hurt that you need to make me bleed alongside you
is it all just a reflection of your tired heart?
or is it me, the masochist?
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