pluck out my ribs,
sprinkle them with salt
I hope they taste bitter-
make me someone I'm afraid to become
wash me in a tub full of blood
(maybe it's just full of red feathers)
(or hearts that pump nothing but *******)

what is it with people like us
we wake up one day and decide to burn our notebooks
and invite the dark we used to be afraid of
to come in and play