Pissing Through a Cheerio

Starting a fire, well spent, unused desire. Love swells to soon expire. Under the rocks of the in between. Trying to find what you see in me. Still lost and in this hole, this pit of hell I call my home. It's always dark and sort of cold, clutching at the edge, my nails full of dirt. I always thought that love wasn't supposed to hurt. Behind those brown eyes like dirt, escape to a hole in the ground. Thank you my saving grace.