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Ten hours and twenty stitches later.
I found my heart on my sleeve
next to the scar you left for me.
Sleepless nights, lead to unproductiveness.
Days spent wondering if I'm alive.
Who the fuck am I to care in the first place?

I give my advice away like spare change
(eventually I'll run out.)
I know you're not listening, but I can pretend.
My heart's a sidewalk, cracked with age.
You walk on it despite the damage done.
It's ok you forgot how I feel, I forgot too.

When the sun goes down,
will you remember I'm there?
When things fall apart,
I'll put back all the pieces.
When you're all alone,
will you remember me?
Will you?