Jan 2018
There’s a man at my door asking me what floor
I don’t know I don’t know anything anymore
He’s taking over me and today he says I’ll make you see
Should I tell Thanks that that’s exactly what I need, for someone to beat me to a pulp and take away all of my hope. Like I had any. Make my home feel more like a prison oh please help I cant even make a ******* decision.
“Excuse me ma’am, are you ok?”
“No, I am not “okay” but you’re going to leave me anyway, because there’s nothing you can do there’s nothing any of you can do to make me feel less blue. You want to make me pop pills but all that’ll do is hold my will out a little longer. Make my suffering just a little bit softer. Maybe it’ll even help me pass a few more tests, or teach people how to respect ******* for once in their life.
It’s not my fault I can’t talk to people or how my mind wonders places, like jumping off a steeple.
It’s not my fault you don’t understand.
It’s not my fault I can’t raise my hand
It’s not my fault that I’m so called bland to this country
It’s not my fault that I live in this country
It’s not my fault he died
It’s not my fault he lied to you
It’s not my fault it’s not my ******* fault, so don’t make it seem like it is.“
This is what I’m thinking and longing to say but instead I say
“ Yes, of course, thanks for asking”
Then we go our separate ways and I am just hoping that you come back to say “I love you”, or “it’s going to be ok”, or at least ask me again. But you don’t, because you have a life, you have people who love you, and you don’t need a stranger to ***** that up, I get it. Thanks for trying to help though, at least you cared for a minute. I’ll take that into consideration tonight when I’m planning to say goodbye.
I don’t know I don’t know anything anymore
He’s taking over me and today he says I’ll make you see
Should I tell Thanks that that’s exactly what I need, for someone to beat me to a pulp and take away all of my hope. Like I had any. Make my home feel more like a prison oh please help I cant even make a ******* decision.
“Excuse me ma’am, are you ok?”
“No, I am not “okay” but you’re going to leave me anyway, because there’s nothing you can do there’s nothing any of you can do to make me feel less blue. You want to make me pop pills but all that’ll do is hold my will out a little longer. Make my suffering just a little bit softer. Maybe it’ll even help me pass a few more tests, or teach people how to respect ******* for once in their life.
It’s not my fault I can’t talk to people or how my mind wonders places, like jumping off a steeple.
It’s not my fault you don’t understand.
It’s not my fault I can’t raise my hand
It’s not my fault that I’m so called bland to this country
It’s not my fault that I live in this country
It’s not my fault he died
It’s not my fault he lied to you
It’s not my fault it’s not my ******* fault, so don’t make it seem like it is.“
This is what I’m thinking and longing to say but instead I say
“ Yes, of course, thanks for asking”
Then we go our separate ways and I am just hoping that you come back to say “I love you”, or “it’s going to be ok”, or at least ask me again. But you don’t, because you have a life, you have people who love you, and you don’t need a stranger to ***** that up, I get it. Thanks for trying to help though, at least you cared for a minute. I’ll take that into consideration tonight when I’m planning to say goodbye.
