I am not your breaktime deed --
That cigarette you roll
Between your fingertips.
I am not your black bow --
The one that you wear
When you're on call.
I am not your alcohol --
That bottle on your lips
And your face to the floor.
I am not your suede shoes --
Your night time glitter
In your daytime locker.
I am not your perfume --
Bottled and locked,
Always consumed.
I am not your secret --
A kept thought
Inside your head.
I am not your personal thing --
You neither own me
Nor use me.
I am your drugs --
And I brim your head
With what you think
Is true.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 10:29 AM UTC
I am not your breaktime deed --
That cigarette you roll
Between your fingertips.
I am not your black bow --
The one that you wear
When you're on call.
I am not your alcohol --
That bottle on your lips
And your face to the floor.
I am not your suede shoes --
Your night time glitter
In your daytime locker.
I am not your perfume --
Bottled and locked,
Always consumed.
I am not your secret --
A kept thought
Inside your head.
I am not your personal thing --
You neither own me
Nor use me.
I am your drugs --
And I brim your head
With what you think
Is true.
