they say write out an sos
in the snow behind my house
got this livin' on the 411, what's
you're 20? I'm asking everyone
and i'm trying to get better at
cursive, I want to flow from
wave to wave but i'm getting
thrown round, rock to rock
it didn't matter anyway.
could have told me
to stop cursin' because i'm
dropping Jesus Christs like
no yesterday, Jesus Christ
where were you today? I'm
drowning in self-hatred, finding
grief is mashed potatoes, pinching
skin between these fingers, where's
this wealth in ****** freedom, just love
yourself, to love is to be loved, well
i insult myself to the point of no return
point fingers in the mirror, love. shaking
heads and sleeping sideways because i feel
the weight of skin i'm stuck inside of, a face
only a mother could love, barred behind words
from kids no longer in or of,
my life, god could it get much worse
i can't find solace in the things that used to work
painting pictures no longer soothes the pain, fields
of grass no longer hide your name, i'm lost in the
plains of isaiah, wandering the sand of achor, so
this is a door of hope? are you telling me to walk
onward? but this soul is distressed and these thighs
are worn, can't go a day without calling myself out
straight to the flaws i go in headfirst, lost all my
friends, self-esteem and sense of self-worth,
confidence is an concept i've only every dreamed of
so my mom keeps asking what I want for my birthday
and I say, happiness, a purpose, and a way home
happiness, a purpose, and a way home
happiness, a purpose, and a way home
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
they say write out an sos
in the snow behind my house
got this livin' on the 411, what's
you're 20? I'm asking everyone
and i'm trying to get better at
cursive, I want to flow from
wave to wave but i'm getting
thrown round, rock to rock
it didn't matter anyway.
could have told me
to stop cursin' because i'm
dropping Jesus Christs like
no yesterday, Jesus Christ
where were you today? I'm
drowning in self-hatred, finding
grief is mashed potatoes, pinching
skin between these fingers, where's
this wealth in ****** freedom, just love
yourself, to love is to be loved, well
i insult myself to the point of no return
point fingers in the mirror, love. shaking
heads and sleeping sideways because i feel
the weight of skin i'm stuck inside of, a face
only a mother could love, barred behind words
from kids no longer in or of,
my life, god could it get much worse
i can't find solace in the things that used to work
painting pictures no longer soothes the pain, fields
of grass no longer hide your name, i'm lost in the
plains of isaiah, wandering the sand of achor, so
this is a door of hope? are you telling me to walk
onward? but this soul is distressed and these thighs
are worn, can't go a day without calling myself out
straight to the flaws i go in headfirst, lost all my
friends, self-esteem and sense of self-worth,
confidence is an concept i've only every dreamed of
so my mom keeps asking what I want for my birthday
and I say, happiness, a purpose, and a way home
happiness, a purpose, and a way home
happiness, a purpose, and a way home
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
i got tired of my old writing so here's this unfinished yuck.
