dollars

You want me to dust off your crown
And straighten your lace gown
And help you when you fall down.

You can't ask me to give all of myself
When I get nothing in return
It's not good for your health
To take secrets to your urn

I love you, I really do,
But you need to understand that
You can't replace your feelings with something shiny and new

Trust funds
On the run
How can you pretend to be perfect
holding a gem-studded gun
Held to your head
On meds
You're perfect, I guess
But you're unstable
You think keeping it together will help
But it won't though

Sitting on a throne
Lost in your thoughts
Knocking away what you have left
What do you have left?

I could have guessed
That you were stressed
Counting dollars and counting wounds
Tearing it to shreds as you tear yourself apart
Until all is left is the graveyard.

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