maybe when i was younger,
i didn't pick fights,
but i'd always pick scabs
until my skin had tried to heal itself so many times that i could no longer hear it squealing
no matter how many times i scarred.
i was taught to fix things
no matter how broken or ugly they get
maybe that's why i'm here
155 miles away from my safe place
thinking it will work.
raising my heart in my palms above the crowd
just for it to be publicly dropped down my throat
into the bottom of my chest
i wasted gas money on this?
i didn't risk the skin on the back of my neck but i did risk the
sensitive touch of your fingers on my back
and when i fall, i fall flat
and these scabs on my knees are getting harder and harder to ignore