I'm twisted,
I'm backwards ,
I'm all wound up,
Turmoil plucks my heart strings creating a symphony of confusion,
Their shriek is shrill and penetrates all levels of my consciousness
It burns,
a blazing fire reborn from the ashes of a left over pain that had been long forgotten,
Receptors singed but still quite intact
Am I a puzzle or a teacup, shattered on the floor
Does grinding down graphite dull down the pain?
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
I'm twisted,
I'm backwards ,
I'm all wound up,
Turmoil plucks my heart strings creating a symphony of confusion,
Their shriek is shrill and penetrates all levels of my consciousness
It burns,
a blazing fire reborn from the ashes of a left over pain that had been long forgotten,
Receptors singed but still quite intact
Am I a puzzle or a teacup, shattered on the floor
Does grinding down graphite dull down the pain?
