[Verse 1: The Autopsy of Living] I peel my skin back inch by inch, Searching for the better twin I switched. Some say it’s in the childhood photos, But those just show a ghost in clothes. The mirror coughs up half-truths, Spits out shards of stolen youth. I scrape my ribs with kitchen steel, To carve out scars that feel more real. [Pre-Chorus: Failed Replacements] Tried to burn it out with strangers, Let the whiskey be my warden. But their hands just left more blanks, Hollow nights and phantom aches. The pills promised resurrection, But left me cold reflections. Now my veins map subway lines, And every station’s closed at nine. [Chorus: The Disappearing Act] Monday steals another piece, Tuesday burns what’s left in peace. By Wednesday, even grief forgets What exactly I once had. The doctors call it “depression,” I call it slow possession. Somewhere in this rotting shell, Something left and left me hell. [Verse 2: The False Hope] April fooled me with a glimpse, Thought I saw it in the fridge— Just the light on empty shelves, Condiments of someone else. Made a list of all my parts, Checked the chambers of my heart. The valves still open, creak, and sigh, Though nothing’s left to keep inside. [Bridge: The Calculation] If I divide my weight by years, Multiply the brine of tears— The sum insists, with minor doubt: I’ve been dead and just not found. The rats leave offerings at night, Broken beads and tarnished lights. Even vermin pity me, Bringing gifts for my debris. [Final Chorus: The Answer] Thursday tears my final shard, Friday mails it postcard-scarred. “Return to sender,” stamped in bile, Where hope decayed into exile. The coroner will mark it “junk,” Stack the pieces with the drunks. No one labels what they lack, When all the missing stays like that. [Outro: The Where] The pieces drift where blind fish swim, Where clocks choke on fractured springs. Where love notes go, unsealed, unread, When you hate yourself to death.
