Box cutter to skin
Stop!
But the lights are screaming
The corners become razors
The stars even hurt my eyes
And the voices are vices to my head
My skin becomes a prison
My vessels and veins are clawing to get out
Misfiring neurotransmitters, the doctors say
Swallow this cocktail of pretty pills and you'll feel fine
Pastels of pink and yellow and green
Swallow them daily, I do
But still the world screams and cuts at me
I want dark and cool and peace
This world does not understand
It hurls at me
Throwing knives and swords as I sprint away
Box cutter to skin
Peace as the stress drips down my arm
Dark as it drips faster
Cool, peace and dark