Fear in form of finger nails
Scratching a hollow back
Hoping to feel
Fragile ribs crack
And flood with blood or love or hate
Or anything worth writing down
On the journal of my arms you create
I should have recorded
Tattooed
The distorted
Words thrown like knifes
pelting like rain
Sipping from bottles
You swore you'd refrain
But it's 6 pm and everyone's doing it
So you should too I guess
Or continue to repress
The fact of us, easy and true
I always seem
To look just like
You.