My Fist, Your Face

How tired are you now
Can you feel it burning
You would have thought by now
I would have ended my life long ago
For what it's worth, it's really not
For what it is worth
You're already dead
You know it and you love it
Raptures and explosions
Movements slowing into still life
That vacant look in your eye
I've seen it before
In a mirror cracked by anger
What stands frozen before me
once saw myself
And the image broke
By my hands calloused and bruised
Shards of a reflection of self abuse
Embedded in the knuckles of an overanalyzed dream
I no longer sleep to keep from waking up
I've come to the realization that no matter how hard I try I'm only dying
You're only dying
You are dying
You, you're waking up to do this all over again