My mother cries to me, she says “I can’t carry on.” My brother hides his head, he’s sober and withdrawn. Grandmother cries to me, says “I don’t wanna die.” And through all this, not once were you standing by my side.
Oh mother: I apologize for the person I’ve [bad word]  Oh father: I apologize for the misdeeds that I’ve done. Oh brother: I apologize; it’s very overdue. Oh lover: I apologize for ever meeting you. I will drink myself near death and I will confess, too—even if you are not here for me to confess to. How will it feel years and years down the line, when you learn you can’t love for the hundredth time?
Oh my friends: I apologize, but it’s time I disappeared. Oh family: I apologize, but I cannot stay here. Oh my friends: I apologize, can you hear it in my voice? I vanished a long, long time ago—I never had a choice. And I will snub these cigarettes out upon my arm, and bandage up my bloodied wrists each time [bad word] to harm. And vomit all my troubles; yes I will purge them out. [bad word] what I’m allowed to feel and allowed to sing about.
God [bad word] you all for trying to discredit self-pity, because three hours of sleep a night is starting to [bad word] kill me. [bad word] what I’m allowed to feel. [bad word] you, and [bad word] what I’m allowed to feel. I was going to name this project “Forbidden Colors” but the pretense made me want to hang myself.