It’s true what they say
You fit me better
Than my favorite sweater

That’s why I’m not happy to say
What I have to say
But I have to
Say

So crack open a beer, sit with
Me my dear
And just
Listen
To what I must say

I’m sick
But this isn’t
Nicholas Sparks
****

I’m sick in my brain
And down through my
Spine
I’m living in a hell of my own design

The monsters I face
Are just in my head
Though sometimes
I feel I’m
Better off dead

So when you see
That I’ve disappeared
In the night
Please
Don’t worry
Or
Put up a fight

Just know ill be back
As soon as I can
When I know
All of me
Can return to you
Again

I hope you know what you’re doing
when you leave your girlfriends, fiancées and ****-buddies
who are dying to be more
on those weekend nights

I hope you know what you’re doing
when you flash me that grin
and buy me a drink

That you know what you do to me
when you laugh at my jokes and tuck
that strand of hair behind my ear

I hope you know what you’re doing
when you bite my lip and hold me close

I hope you know what you’re doing
when you say you’ll talk to me
later but you go home to her

unbeknownst to me

I hope you know what you’re doing
because I never seem to.

You may be a scar on my heart
But you are also a burn on my
Spine