Late at night or in the middle of the day, voices sneak inside this *******-e-d up brain. They yell and scream till my mind is tore, making me think, there, is, no, more.
When I’m not ok but I say I’m fine I’m not I think If I walk into the road I would get hit and it would be over If I slit my wrists it would be over If I put that rope around my neck and jump it would be over If I drank the window cleaner it would be over If I jumped of the building it would be over But if they ask I say I’m okay
Tear me Cut the seams so I spill Out like so many beans That Jack buried And never grew Like his feelings for Jill They are still As so many leaves Bourne upon windy words That are gobbled up Despite the fact That they are absurd I wish that you would swerve I wish that you had swerved So I could cross the road Like I deserve Don't bother with your words You already won So feel vilified