Society tries to convince me fireworks are beautiful
But I really just taste a little of heaven and hell on holidays
I still have some terrible image of the ball dropping three years ago on New Years
The same sickening, nauseous, gut feeling Like the one I have now
It’s the same feeling I had when I took the plan B pill after celebrating the new year too hard
The thing is-
It isn’t any different now;
I can hear the fireworks explode in tiny pockets of my mind
And I can see the sky burst with life for two or three seconds
Before the color flickers and dies
But I can also taste the salt of your fingertips on my lips
And I can feel your rough hand close around my throat
I can still feel myself cough ‘no’ through your fingers
And in my mind I’m still praying to god that I’m dreaming
Holidays are supposed to be a little slice of heaven; a break from the chains of this world,
But I just taste hell;
This isn’t anything like three years ago, it isn’t hell-
I’m sitting next to my sister listening to the fireworks
I can smell the ***** on my breath and
Taste all the delicious food we made
The thing about holidays is that they aren’t made to be forgotten;
We celebrate because the triumphs of the past-
Only when everyone is celebrating
I’m trapped in some claustrophobic prison because of the past
Every firework sends chills down my spine
And I can taste your hands shoving my mouth closed
And feel your hands close around my throat so tight you leave bruises
I don’t like to remember but it’s impossible
Some things never change; they just sort of fade
I mean look at us;
We’re all here celebrating something that happened years ago -