There it is.
A bubble
red.
Buried in the metaphorical rubble.
Alive, yet dead.
target sighted
I'm still wrong, not yet righted.
Phasers locked, loaded, and ready to scritch
Entering the level of crazy...bitch.
And scratch. Penalty shot.
And it's GOOD!
Though truthfully, I've been here a while. And it's bad.
I already lost.
Because I always come back to it.
Because it's a bug bite ya fools.
It's been quiet for quite some time.
Because I always come back to it.
Because it's actually not a bug bite ya fools.
Metaphors are dead
and now the smile wears my face like a simile.
Thoughts in my head
unravel faster than a sweater string all pily.