Bear trap.

This isn't about what you thought it was. All those dark rooms and leather couches, you thought, "this is killing me, but they'll know they're no better." Because this isn't about what you thought. This isn't about someone being closer. Our choices don't define us, but circumstance does,
and I escaped,
I'm out alive.
Somewhere you fit in to what I left behind...
You were alive and your eyes were bright. The beauty of the heart would fly off your lips and exploded in the air. It speaks morose; addiction's word dribbles down your teeth and falls into the cracks in your lips
behind poison.
Now you're waking up to face another day. Or plan at whose house to pass out, and it wasted all away. It's coming either way.
This isn't what you thought it was. All of this talk about getting up and leaving. All of the talk about being limited,
because every friend you left behind,
is now alive.
And you must have died.
Wake up, dear friend, and see...
This is your death,
this is your bear trap.