Gallon Of Gasoline, And A Box Matches Poem by Nate Jones

i'm drenched, your love to me
is like gallon of gasoline, and a box matches
i'm about to go up in flames
i know i should be ashamed
my vision is blurred, i can not see
depressed that i will never be free
every word you say is a razor
and rejection a butcher knife
my mind is lost in an endless maze
and my empty heart lacks life
im sorry im so morbid
all of me is dead
but its the truth
there is nowhere to move
another f**ked up metaphor
i walk through that door
as i'm bleeding
i make my way in the garage
realizing to you i'm only a mirage
this sleepless night
you make me ignite
crying so hard i laugh
crying so hard i laugh
is this end?
is this really the end?