The mass vascularity is finally revealed as the voice on the phone beckons
"are you ok?"  & "im scared."
Lifting yourself off the tile floor
It was once a harsh stone white
it's stained with sanguinous face prints
Your weakened, concussive reply
"if you're not scared what are you?"

Both forever and never the optimistic
Eager to repair, cure, remedy
smile forged by the smoldering liar inside
Seems so familiar this reality
Seems like I've been here before torn from what used to hold me
With broken skin and ****** hands constantly gripping what could've been what couldn't be fixed.