i don’t like thinking about the stain on my brain
about the awful
disturbing things
that i’ve done and seen and played out in my skull
oh no, i don’t like who i am
the truth of it all?
i don’t like feeling this small.
i’m on fire and i think everyone should just let me burn,
or toss me into the pool and then let me drown,
save me just to **** me in a different way,
pull me out and put a needle in my veins
i need to change
i need to want to change.
did you like who i was yesterday?
i think i’ll be her again.
do you think we could scrub my mind clean and just begin again?
i could forget your name and you could forget that night in my bed
no one would need to know a word that i said
and somehow i’ll know not to touch you ever again
and then you could heal and i could be cleansed-
i don’t like thinking,
i don’t like being a part of the torture that was my upbringing.
i don’t like sleeping,
i don’t like being the last bit of defense before you start swinging.
i wanted to be something better than i am today
but i can’t point out exactly when everything blew up in my face
and even though it’s my fingers that are covered in this powder
i’m sure it’s anyone else’s fault for how i got here.