It’s an almost panic attack
in the hall of the plane.
Keep your eyes dry until the wine cart passes.
When the seatbelt sign turns off you can go into the bathroom and cry.

Every moment,
every time,
with tears in your eyes and Radiohead in your ears,
lips trembling, seizing with emotion.
You never cry
and now you can’t stop.
What is wrong with you?

I can’t help and I don’t want to
but what is wrong with you?

You tear the walls down only to build them up.
You fall down only to lay there and think about how cold the ground is.
You cry and whine and when someone looks at you
you’re always so ******* fine.

Help yourself help yourself.
Help yourself help yourself.
What is that saying
about you do it or you’ll die?
I feel I may be dying.