It takes processing.
Every slice,
every tear,
one pint after the next.
Waiting for pain,
once again,
the cycle isn't bound to end.
Under control,
the edge in hand,
a round of jagged scars all around.
On the house,
a bout of pain,
a pitcher of grief,
can't get enough of this misery.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 6:13 AM UTC
