I looked at my life, with scares and bruises from where people have left.
And then I looked at yours, clean and straight.
And I saw the wild hair and broken grin of my heart and decided I’d rather be me than be you.
I know I can’t keep people near, but I can always keep them in my heart.
I can keep them from being forgotten.
I’d rather feel the pain of missing all of the people who leftthan be left with a silent sterile life.
So my hands have scrapes and scars that I guess could’ve been avoided
But I’d rather have these open hands than your closed fists.