let me crack open your already fractured skull,
and clean up the mess inside
these nimble fingers of mine
ache to be laced within yours
and i let me tear
the pages of a broken childhood
from your family photo albums
so we can write a new story
of kissing all the boo boos
and searching for the monsters under your bed
we can take the flashlights
out behind the rows of pine trees at night
and let me make shadow puppets of a life reimagined  
there's a breeze that flows
through the familiarity of this feeling
you can find it in the kitchen sink,
this shattered old bathroom mirror,
and a living room that never really felt alive
they don't matter anymore
and it's as if you never even lived here at all
and the boy stands in front of me
in the shadows of a second life
with a fractured skull and menthol breath
stringed with words that roll off his tongue
like barbed wire
because you don't even know yourself
and you're a fighting for a chance
at a life worth living
but these things will pass -
in and out of a melancholy mind of yours
while i remain on the bedroom floor
of the house you spent years trying to escape
cleaning up the mess inside your head