Don't know if I'm becoming paranoid of it my tooth is coming loose,
But I can't seem to get a hold of my head and place a hand on my grief.
Don't know if I'm more sensitive now than I was before in time,
Or whether my heart has lost its gut which makes me send pics for free.
Don't know if I'm more open to life and to succumb to the pleasures of love,
But I have as sting in my stomach that pulls and hurts to strain.
Don't know if my doors are open and I welcome anyone inside,
Or whether I'm inviting my own demise into my frail mind.