Throwing pastel darts into the heart board
Pulling up electric dandelions, watch them wilt
A small hole dug in the woods, soul in a glass jar buried
Carried to long, can't feel your legs under you
Ever present antagonist, burning charcoal in each ventricle
A pencil full of dreams shaved to scribbles
All the pencils bend in there
I never want to go back
He might still be screaming
you can hear it in every room