What

What would you like me to say?
That I am tormented?
That I am full of regret?
That I am held together by ducttape
And bottles of vodka hang about my neck?
What would you like me to tell you?
That I ripped my own soul to shreds?
That I am a puddle of darkness
And am drowning in pure misery?
What would make your heart hurt less?
Would it be that I can't sleep without you?
That every night is too hard
So I choose to stay up and stare at the walls
Than to face one more dream that you haunt?
Would it make you feel better if I came crawling back,
Or if I kept admitting how bad I fucked up?
Would it hurt less? Probably not
So here's to us both... raise your shot.