Damaged people love you like you are crime scene,
Before a crime has even been committed.
They keep their running shoes besides their souls every night,
One eye open in case things change whilst they sleep.
Their backs are always tense as though waiting,
To fight a sudden storm that might engulf them.
Because damaged people have already seen hell.
And damaged people understand that every evil demon,
That exists down there was once a kind angel before it fell.
Something borrowed from Nikita Gill