Cry if Want To, Need To, You Will

If it isn’t my birthday
And I’m not doing this right in the middle of tears
Then what was it all for?
I hate my body missing any of it
That the reason gets missed when you come back up
Circle back down

That love gets questioned
Friends get lost
Life falls far
Reality leaves you
And all you have left is yourself
And a pen.

I’ll take this down here though
Wrecked, screaming, shaking
Empty, alone, stripped
Because I feel the links breaking
And life keeps appearing
More and more each time.

But I won’t close the door completely.
I’ll be here when you’re dying
On the floor
On your birthday
When you realise dramatics don’t exist—
When you reach your own wreck, penless.