It's eating me alive What I think but never say It's killing me inside All the words I keep Confined in one notebook Pray that they never escape That page and stop scraping Their claws in my brain.
I don't hate Showers I hate who I find Myself to be When I'm that Alone No distractions Just my own Twisted mental Interactions.
And it's not the music That makes me sad Because I keep switching Genres like a genuine Shuffle button **** But I've come to the conclusion That it's some kind of thermal Curtain messing with the Natural lighting In my brain.
And what I want you to know Is simple But I won't ever tell you Because I am not That girl anymore Unless of course You're keeping up With what's going on Between the blue lines And stale sheets I sleep in every Dark afternoon.
And sometimes it hurts Too much for words So I don't even Try Just hit that shuffle button And pretend that the music On the other end of these Headphones Can actually Change what's in my chest cavity Cover up what's Lying dead and rotting In the center of everything I've ever felt.
But let's cut the Metaphors and get back To this hot glass reality Pulled straight from The dishwasher After four hours And nineteen minutes Of steam.
I remember the moment Exactly I was standing with the faux oak Cupboard doors open And blocking the Sunlight I so avoid And I was thinking about The week old sermon Still rattling around The shelves of my Misplaced Thought processes.
And then Suddenly After years of confusion All the pieces snapped Into the picture of My epiphany And it hit me Hard Too hard Why.
I'm always wondering Why But sometimes wondering is easier Than why And not knowing is better Than why.
So I turned around and Changed the song But nothing is drowning this out Nothing is stopping The words bleeding from My torn nailbeds Or changing what I keep In the cracks of my knuckles.