Eight stars shine over the river and count the 
  hours that I’ve wasted being honest
  to myself and as I zoom in on the smallest, 
  I notice how delicately it flickers and how dangerously
  it burns. 
I keep saying I’m scared of abandonment but it’s
   you that I’m afraid of, my lungs never breathed as 
   weakly
   as they do in your gaze and as sadly 
   as they do in the follow of your grip. 
   I’m not strong enough to admit that I’m not
   good enough, 
   that I’m not worth
   the effort, 
   but I tried to open my mouth and scream 
   out the skeletons and it never changed anything, 
       did it?
   It never did anything. 
The eight-year-old inside of 
   me keeps telling me to have 
   faith, 
   but there are at least seven major
   scars on my body and three of those 
   almost killed me, 
   so why do I pretend that any piece of her 
   still exists? 
      Stop saying I’m stronger, 
          Stop saying that love is beauty, 
             Stop saying you can be the better person, 
       sweetheart, 
                         you know me. 
    Scared of forgetting what it’s like to feel, 
                         you know me, 
    Lacking of composure, of compassion, of comfort, 
                          you know me, 
              You know me.
Eight stars shine over the river and count 
    how many idiots feel 
    love and laugh because their supernova will 
    not 
    be meaningless, 
    
               but I will.