Stunted, the same, by highs and lows alike. A jubilant parade inside some nights. Silver linings? Ticking timebombs! Infinite splinters! No good time left unexploded. Rusted blood iron and red wine filling my eyes. Tired of feeling "weird." Tired of knowing I'm being.
I wish I wanted anything in a way that didn't scare me. I wish I could love anything in ways that couldn't hurt-- --inward or out--
I wish... I think... If I sit on this bench...for a long time, and keep perfectly still...but make subtle eye contact with some of the crows... they'll accept me as one of them?
Teach me to fly Or, at least, hide in plain sight. A new vocabulary for my quiet when it starts to get mean.
Entangled, alike, by lows and highs, the same. Convenient jailbreak for a Name-- --Say it. Chewing paper? Eat the playbook. Shred this formula. No good night goes unpunished. Rusted blood in my mouth, and red wine-- crying outside Tired of being fragile Tired of knowing I know.